


Blood of the Covenant

by Makeste



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 5927 friendship, 8059 friendship, 805927 friendship, Action, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makeste/pseuds/Makeste
Summary: When a long-concealed threat reemerges from Gokudera’s past, Tsuna and the Vongola find themselves embroiled in the midst of a violent family conflict, with their Storm Guardian’s future at stake—and possibly his life.The man grinned. “I gotta say, you’ve grown up a lot, Hayato. Last I saw you, you were still a little kid playing the piano.”Gokudera felt a surge of furious adrenaline at the memory. “What the hell are you doing here?”The smile wilted. “Delivering bad news, unfortunately.”Gokudera frowned.“Sorry to tell you this… but your old man passed away.”





	1. Prologue (Target 00) - Coup

**Author's Note:**

> This is my go at reconciling all known elements of Gokudera’s backstory, both from the Daily Life and Future arcs. Expect a _lot_ of headcanon, painstakingly woven over the past six years, which I spent never getting over the end of this stupid series.
> 
> This was also my attempt to create the kind of finale that I always wanted—in particular, the kind of character development I feel like the series was building towards (or maybe it was just my own wishful thinking), but never quite achieved. As such, it’s written as sort of a new story arc, and because of that, there are several OCs thrown (rather heavily) into the mix. This was absolutely essential for the plot, so all I can do is hope I haven’t screwed that up too badly.
> 
> Currently this is about 90% complete; I'm expecting it to clock in at around 50,000 words and 12/13 chapters in all. Planned update schedule is Tuesdays & Thursdays.
> 
> **Warnings** – Overall tw for psychological abuse. See individual chapter notes for more specific warnings.

In the aftermath of the coup, the DiSanto mansion resembled nothing so much as the set of a Hollywood disaster film. The grand entryway was strewn with the debris of shattered pots and glasswork, and one of the two massive oak doors had been blown off its hinge. Pieces of antique furniture lay riddled with bullet holes where they had been overturned and used as makeshift barriers. Curtains had been torn, shredded, and one had even been set on fire; the embers still smoldered lightly next to a shattered mirror.

Anthony Franco, a lanky Italian man of twenty-eight, winced as he caught sight of that last. “Aaaand that’s seven years’ bad luck,” he muttered aloud.

“Yes, very unlucky,” the woman behind him said dryly. This statement was accompanied by the sound of steel being drawn; Anthony turned to watch as she drew her _shin gunto_ sword from the sheath on her back. With the trademark effortless grace that had always fascinated him, she crouched beside one of the dying men who had been unlucky enough to find themselves on the wrong end of this conflict.

Slender fingers reached to gently brush the man’s lips, hushing his pained cries. A second later, the sword had silenced them permanently.

Rising back to her feet, Bella Roma flung the excess blood from the blade with a flick of her wrist, pulling out a cloth with her other hand to wipe off the rest. “We should just call the whole thing off.”

“Don’t suppose the Boss would be too happy about that.”

“Is he the Boss, now?”

“Seems that way. Doesn’t exactly look like anyone’s left to protest.”

Bella quirked an eyebrow, and Anthony marveled yet again at just how beautiful those sightless gray eyes were. “The mission objective didn’t call for survivors.”

“In this case, survivors would have been… messy.”

“And I don’t do messy.”

Anthony grinned. “I know you can’t see it for yourself, but believe me.” He spread his arms wide to indicate the rubble all around them. She couldn’t physically witness the gesture—Bella had been blind since childhood—but he knew she would still be able to tell exactly what he was doing. “It’s a mess.”

She smiled as he reached out and brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheek, then flicked aside a few stray long dark hairs. For a moment his touch lingered there. She replied in kind, drawing his face in closer, fingertips softly tracing the five o’clock shadow that he painstakingly maintained (while going to great lengths to appear as though he didn’t).

They kissed, lightly, and then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’d better go check on him.”

He stepped over a fallen column toward the set of doors that led to the east hall, and beyond that the ballroom where, he assumed, Luca would be.

Just as he was about to walk through the door, he heard Bella caution him: “Careful what you say. He’s upset.”

Anthony didn’t bother to ask how she knew—he knew better than to question Bella’s intuitions by now. If she said something was, then it was. “Roger that,” he said, then set down the hall, conscious of the way his footsteps echoed all the way down the marble floor.

Luca DiSanto glanced briefly in his direction as Anthony entered the ballroom, but otherwise did not immediately acknowledge his presence. He stood by the grand piano, idly fingering the keys. 

Anthony thought in that moment that he looked very much older than his twenty-five years. Though Luca—unlike Anthony—hadn’t yet sprouted any gray hairs among his coal-black fringe, his eyes had a vaguely haunted look about them. He looked preoccupied, but thankfully not crazed or disturbed, as Anthony had briefly feared he might be.

“So how does it feel?” Anthony asked, keeping his tone casual but cautious. It wouldn’t do to rattle the kid’s emotions more than they probably already were, but this was a big moment, and he needed to get a read on what Luca was thinking now that they had finally made it to this point.

The corner of Luca’s mouth curled upward, humorlessly. “Not great. I killed a lot of people I liked.” He fiddled with the keyboard lid. “…And my dad is dead.”

That, of course, was the heart of the matter right there. “Well, that is the nature of a coup,” Anthony said, not unkindly.

Luca sighed. “It shouldn’t have been necessary. In a just world, it wouldn’t have been. It’s such a waste. This whole system.” 

Abruptly, he slammed the piano lid shut with a heavy thud, the first display of temper Anthony had seen from him that night. Oddly, rather than being unsettled, Anthony found it somewhat reassuring; this side of Luca, he had much more experience in dealing with.  
“You did what you had to do. …Boss,” he added.

It had the desired effect; Luca’s mood of existential anger seemed to dissipate, and when he finally turned back to Anthony he was smiling again, albeit with something of a grim edge. “So who’s left?”

“Well, me and Bella. Absolutely none of the Capos. Still a good number of soldiers. We took care of anyone who wasn’t loyal. Bella… well, you know how she is.” He shrugged. “I don’t think there’ll be any problems. You do have a couple of high-level vacancies to fill,” he added. “Probably at least a few of the soldiers are low-key hoping it’ll be them.”

“Is there anyone who’d be good?”

“We’ll look into it.” Anthony did have a couple of candidates in mind, though it would probably be best to wait until the dust had settled a little bit, to make sure they were really trustworthy.

“Speaking of high-level vacancies,” Luca said very offhandedly, “I’ll be needing a Consigliere.”

Anthony grinned. “I wonder where you could find a bastard willing to do that.”

He couldn’t fight the rush of affection that hit him when Luca smiled back. For all of his faults, his temper and his stubbornness, he really was fond of the kid. He’d gotten a raw deal; it really wasn’t his fault. While Anthony had had his misgivings back when they’d first started planning the coup, in the end he did feel that some measure of justice had been served here tonight.

“I can count on you?” Luca said, and Anthony nodded.

“Always.”

Luca began walking toward the door and Anthony fell into step beside him.

“First things first,” Luca said as they exited the room. “I need you to select one or two others that you trust to be able to get a job done.”

“And what kind of job are we talking?”

Luca slowed, and paused for a moment.

“…I need you to go to Japan.”


	2. Target 01 - Bad News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warnings** – _These contain **spoilers** , so skip ahead if you want to avoid._
> 
>   1. Reiterating my earlier tw for psychological abuse (though there’s nothing too specific as of yet).
>   2. Warning for asphyxiation/strangling.
> 


The graduation ceremony had gone as smoothly as anyone could have hoped, a fact for which Reborn knew Tsuna would be grateful. He had begged Reborn for days beforehand not to interfere with the event. 

Reborn had considered it anyway, of course—the traditional rites were tediously formal, and the idea of spicing things up was tempting. But in the end, he’d refrained. Not for Tsuna’s sake (as always, Reborn felt that his protégé should be ready for anything, and it could have been a great teaching opportunity), but as a favor to Hibari. The head of the discipline committee had also—albeit indirectly—requested that Reborn abstain from any meddling, in order to maintain the school’s discipline on this auspicious day.

Thus, Reborn had behaved himself for the entire morning. And now, as the students exited the auditorium and gathered outside with their friend and family groups in the warm spring air, he had taken up a position near the gates and was observing thoughtfully.

Tsuna himself still had a year to go before his own graduation, of course. The only one of their number to actually graduate today had been Sasagawa Ryohei, who had done so with predictable overenthusiasm. But it was never too early to start making plans for _next_ year’s ceremony, during which he had no intention of standing back quietly, regardless of any pleas or appeals. Tsuna would one day be the head of the Vongola family, after all; it was only fitting to mark his own junior high graduation with the spectacle it deserved.

Of course, as his tutor, Reborn had his work cut out for him over the next year to ensure that Tsuna reached that milestone to begin with. Not just academically—although that was an impending trial the likes of which even he couldn’t ignore—but also in the sense of literally making sure he physically lived long enough to see that day. 

Which was the other reason why he had casually stationed himself by the school gates now, patiently waiting for the individual whose presence he had detected a while back to finally make himself known.

When the moment finally came, he had to admit it was satisfying to see even so strong a man as Ganauche III, Lighting Guardian of Vongola IX, practically jump out of his skin, cursing vehemently as Reborn put a gun to his head with a cheerful, “Ciaossu.”

“Shit. I don’t know why I bother,” Ganauche glared as Reborn returned the weapon to its holster.

“It’s what you get for trying to sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t even trying to _sneak_ , I’m just keeping a low profile. Not that it apparently means anything to you.”

“You’re a long way from home,” Reborn observed.

“Can’t a man pay a visit to watch his future Boss’s graduation?” Ganauche said, with an offhanded glance toward where Tsuna and the others currently stood gathered and oblivious. 

“He doesn’t actually graduate until next year.” Though Reborn was quite sure that Ganauche knew this already.

“Right. Graduate _middle school_.” 

Reborn chose to ignore the dry tone in Ganauche’s voice, assuming that the man would get to his point eventually. “Having spent the past two years as his tutor, I assure you it’s more of an accomplishment than it seems.”

“I don’t doubt,” Ganauche replied. He seemed to be momentarily preoccupied with watching Tsuna and the rest of his young group now.

They both observed in silence for the next few moments. Ryohei stood in the center of the bunch, clutching his diploma with fierce pride, a flower pinned to the lapel of his school uniform. The others were grouped around him, passing around various mobile phones and holding them up (though the quality of the selfies they were taking was almost certainly compromised by the general lack of an attention span among most of the individuals present).

“They really are just kids, aren’t they?” Ganauche said finally.

“Were you any different when you got started?”

“Oh, we both know I was much, much worse.”

“Don’t be so confident that you’ve moved on to the past tense,” said Reborn. “But we’re getting off track. You still haven’t said why you’re really here.”

His smirk fading away, Ganauche observed the students for another moment or two. “We have a problem,” he said at last. “Or the makings of one. Gokudera Hayato.”

“What about him?”

“The Ninth had you and the Cavallone test him, didn’t he? I assume he passed, since he’s still breathing.”

“Gokudera’s loyalty is not in doubt,” Reborn replied.

“Just making sure. So there’s absolutely no chance you might have, for instance, felt sorry for the kid? Maybe given him some help? Told a white lie here and there to protect him…?”

Reborn responded with silence, as was appropriate, given the utter ridiculousness of what was being inferred.

“I’m just saying,” Ganauche went on, “no one would have blamed you. They _are_ just kids; it can be easy to get caught up in that.”

Again, Reborn met him with a silent look, though this time he did allow a hint of irritation to show.

Finally Ganauche sighed in exasperation. “God, no response at _all_. You’re just a wall.”

“And you’re calling my loyalty into question.”

“Okay, geez, I stand corrected. You’re an impeccable man of character as always.”

“Ganauche,” Reborn said, and now he allowed the irritation to reach his voice as well. “Don’t think my obedience to the Ninth and your status as his Guardian will stop me from putting a bullet in your eye.”

“I’d look pretty good with an eyepatch, don’t you think?” But he did look visibly unnerved, much to Reborn’s satisfaction. A moment later, Reborn cocked his gun, and at long last Ganauche gave up any pretense of maintaining his flippant cool composure. “All right, all right, limited patience, reached the end of it; I copy that.”

“So the next words out of your mouth will be you explaining why you’re here,” Reborn pressed with the gun aimed at his forehead.

“Giovanni DiSanto is dead,” Ganauche replied.

There was a heavy pause while Reborn absorbed that information. 

“How?”

“Some kind of coup. Apparently he had an illegitimate son that most people didn’t know about. Kid got tired of second-class status and did the old man in. Familiar story.”

_An illegitimate son_. This was unexpected. Reborn had been prepared for something like this to happen someday, of course, but this was much sooner than even he had ever anticipated.

“Is anyone keeping tabs on Bianchi?” he asked.

“She’s alive,” Ganauche confirmed. “CEDEF’s currently locating her; once they do, they’ll keep her out of harm’s way until we can get this sorted out.”

“Contact Shamal as well.”

“Already on it.”

“Have you intercepted anyone?”

“Not yet; we’ll let you know if we do. I’m sure they’ve sent someone out, though.” Ganauche’s eyes narrowed. “This new guy, Luca, he was extremely thorough. Word is all their top brass are dead. He’s not gonna want anyone left on the outside who has a legitimate claim to that Boss’s seat. Whether they’re part of a different famiglia now or not.” 

He crossed his arms and directed one last long glance at the Vongola group. Sasagawa Kyoko was now holding her phone while pressed against her older brother’s shoulder, making a peace sign as both of them grinned. Then at Ryohei’s insistence, Kyoko beckoned over a beet-red Tsuna, and the three of them crowded together as Kyoko’s phone flashed several more times.

Gokudera Hayato was beaming, and seemed to be cheering his Boss on, right up until Tsuna suddenly passed out in an embarrassing heap, too overwhelmed by the sudden up-close proximity to his crush. After rushing to Tsuna’s side to make sure he was okay, Gokudera turned on Ryohei, apparently assigning him the blame. Had Yamamoto not calmly taken hold of him from behind, the matter would almost certainly have escalated into a fist fight right there and then.

“Baby brother will be on their list,” Ganauche said finally. “That is, assuming that you’re right, and this is where his loyalties lie.”

Reborn cocked his gun one more time. “Thank you for your report, Lightning Guardian.”

“I’ll take the hint,” replied Ganauche coolly. “CEDEF has eyes here too, so we’ll keep in touch.” 

And with that, he turned and strolled back out the gate.

Reborn waited till he was gone, then tugged the brim of his fedora down with a sigh.

Ganauche’s earlier suggestion had been wrong—Reborn would never put the family at risk just to protect any single individual, whether said individuals were children or not. That said, Ganauche wasn’t entirely off-base when it came to the wider implication. 

The truth was, Reborn did care about Tsuna’s Guardians, and he had a fondness for all of them, Gokudera included. It was Reborn’s responsibility to make sure they grew up well alongside Tsuna. They were the future of the family, and though they’d already proven their worthiness on multiple occasions, there were still things he’d intended to shelter them from for as long as possible. And if he was honest with himself, that part of it was just as much for the Guardians’ own sakes as it was for the family’s well-being.

Reborn sighed again. Although he hated to admit it, maybe he was starting to go soft.

\---

Gokudera yawned as he exited the store, tugging his apron off and stuffing it messily into his bag. He whipped out his phone and started scrolling through his new texts as he headed down the street.

After the graduation ceremony, they had all gone to Tsuna’s house to celebrate, but Gokudera had left in the afternoon to go to his part-time job. It was late now—going on eleven p.m.—but seeing as they were now on break and would have no school for the next ten days, he was hoping the others would still be there if he stopped by the Tenth’s— _no, not Tenth, Neo-Primo_ —again. 

A quick glance at the group chat confirmed that Tsuna and the baseball idiot were in fact still there, and with a grin, he slid the phone back into his pocket. 

That was when he realized something was wrong.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he slowed his pace, stifling a curse. Absolutely no one was around. There were streetlights and some vending machines further up ahead, and the lights of the convenience store and a few other businesses a ways back down the street, but this particular stretch of road was quite dark, a fact Gokudera was suddenly acutely aware of.

It wasn’t paranoia. Years of surviving on his own had honed his instincts to the point where he didn’t question when they told him he was being followed.

He forced himself to keep walking, listening intently in those spaces in between his own steps, filtering out everything else, including the sound of his own breathing. 

Whoever it was, if they were going to attack him, their best bet would be to do it in the next few seconds, before he cleared the dark stretch of road and reached the intersection at the end of the alley. _Wait for it…_

There it was—the sound of footsteps not his own.

He whipped around to see a figure lunging at him in the dark, and had just barely enough time to sidestep, lighting a handful of bombs in the blink of an eye. Caught off-guard and off-balance, the figure skidded to a halt and readjusted, but too late. Before he could take another step, the air erupted in light and smoke as Gokudera hit him directly with a Double Bomb attack.

The man crumpled with a groan, and Gokudera fell back defensively, his guard still up just in case the attacker wasn’t truly down for the count just yet.

Then he heard a second pair of footsteps, this time approaching from the opposite end of the alley, and as he whipped back around, a tall figure with a gangly appearance stepped out from the shadows into the blue glow of the streetlights.

“Not bad,” the new, unknown figure said, and Gokudera glared.

“That was nothing. If you’re coming for the Neo Vongola Primo’s right hand man, and all you could bother to send was trash like this, I’m insulted. Who the hell are you?”

“What, you don’t recognize me?” There was a laughing quality in the other man’s voice that somehow set Gokudera even more on edge. “Well, I suppose it _has_ been a long time. Going on, what… six years now, I guess?”

_Six years._

Gokudera fought a sudden, involuntary shiver. Six years ago meant there was only one famiglia this man could possibly be associated with, and that thought sent a chill running through his veins.

He took a step closer in spite of the alarm bells going off in the back of his head, needing to see the man’s face more clearly. The man obligingly moved further into the light, and now Gokudera realized that he _did_ recognize those features. A moment later his brain supplied a name to go with them.

“Franco,” he said in shock.

The man—Anthony Franco—grinned widely. “So you _do_ remember. I gotta say, you’ve grown up a lot, Hayato. Last I saw you, you were still a little kid playing the piano.”

Gokudera instantly felt a surge of furious adrenaline at the memory. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Franco’s smile wilted. “Delivering bad news, unfortunately.”

Gokudera frowned.

“Sorry to tell you this,” said Franco, “but your old man passed away.”

It was like a slap to the face.

For a moment, Gokudera just stood there in shock, his mind recoiling from the news, unable to process any kind of reaction whatsoever. 

His father. Dead.

His father was dead.

He felt a sudden stinging heat behind his eyes, and blinked it back furiously. No. He didn’t even like his father. Hated him, in fact. Hadn’t seen or spoken to him in seven years, and hadn’t missed him. He should be glad. He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t hurt. It _didn’t_ hurt.

It did hurt.

It wasn’t fair. Fuck. It wasn’t fucking _fair_.

He was suddenly aware that Franco was eyeing him with something far too much like sympathy, and with another heated blast of anger he pushed those feelings down, breathing hard, and aware of a wetness on his cheeks but ignoring it because he was _not_ going to be affected by this.

And then Franco said, “Luca’s in charge now,” and suddenly Gokudera forgot all about his confused grief, forgot about everything else except the sudden ice block in the pit of his stomach, as he took an involuntary step back.

Luca.

_(What our father did is a sin. Your existence is a sin.)_

Luca was in charge of the DiSanto family now.

_(Do you want to die like them?)_

He was trembling, he realized. He couldn’t help it. It was like his heart rate had suddenly gone into overdrive.

_(I want you to go. I want you to run away and never come back. Do you understand?)_

He had to get a grip. He was spiraling, he couldn’t do this. He had to get himself under control. Breathe.

“I’m sorry, kid,” said Franco quietly.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“It’s nothing personal.”

Gokudera looked back at him with sudden horrified comprehension dawning.

And then without warning, there was a thick cord around his windpipe, and he was being dragged back, off his feet; he dropped his bombs, fingers instinctively moving to ply at the cable around his neck; but his assailant had double-looped it and no matter how hard he pulled it only seemed to tighten the coil more.

And now there were spots dancing in front of his eyes, and damn it he shouldn’t have let his guard down; he’d fucked up so badly; it hurt so bad and he couldn’t breathe and fuck fuck fuck he was going to die.

And then suddenly there was a bang and the stranglehold grip wringing the garrote around his throat slackened and then released without warning; and Gokudera fell to his knees, half dazed, but there was _air_ , now; he could _breathe_ again, and for a moment all he could do was concentrate on that, until the spots began to clear and he could process thought again.

He glanced weakly behind him to see the would-be assassin lying dead, a fresh bullet wound gaping on the side of his head.

And there, standing in between him and Franco, was Reborn, gun drawn and barrel still smoking, half-illuminated in the soft blue glow of the streetlight. It was honestly one of the coolest things Gokudera had ever seen, and if he’d been in any kind of normal state of mind, he would have been blown away with admiration. 

As it was, he was still so shaken that all he could do was stare, one hand still protectively clutching at his throat.

“You’re with the DiSanto family,” said Reborn, calm as ever. He was talking to Franco, Gokudera realized a second later.

“Not here to pick a fight with the Vongola,” Franco said cautiously. He jerked his head once in Gokudera’s direction. “Our only business is with him.”

“Gokudera is part of the Vongola,” said Reborn without hesitation, and Gokudera swallowed thickly.

Franco hesitated. His own gun was drawn, but he had gone stiff the instant Reborn had showed up. Clearly he was weighing his odds, which were not looking in his favor at that particular moment. 

A silent dialogue seemed to pass between him and Reborn—that life-or-death language understood only by two people in a standoff—and then Franco shook his head with a short, defeated laugh, and in one swift, sudden movement aimed his pistol at the streetlight and fired.  
It took a few seconds for Gokudera’s eyes to adjust to the sudden resulting darkness. When he had, he saw that Franco was gone.

Reborn, however, hadn’t gone after him, but was still standing exactly where he had been a moment ago. Slowly he turned to look back at Gokudera. 

And just like that, Gokudera felt his short-lived relief evaporate. 

Reborn’s expression was unreadable, but if he was here and he knew about the DiSanto, then Gokudera could only imagine how much else he knew. The Vongola intelligence network being what they were, it was probably everything. He would know exactly how much Gokudera had willfully concealed from the family. From _Tsuna_.

—Tsuna.

Yet another shiver ran down his spine at the thought. Luca was back, and now he was the new DiSanto Boss. His father was dead. And apparently Luca now wanted him dead too.

And as long as he was with the Vongola, they would be involved in this by default. Tsuna would be involved. Possibly he would be in danger as well.

He looked back at Reborn, horrified.

“Ciaossu, Gokudera. We need to talk,” Reborn said.


	3. Target 02 - Luca DiSanto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready or not, here comes the first big headcanon dump; brace yourselves for impending backstory revision. Though I really did make an effort to make sure everything still fits neatly into the established canon.
> 
> **Trigger Warnings for this chapter** – These contain _spoilers_ , so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
> 
>   1. It’s still only minor, but have another tw for psychological abuse (and arguably, physical abuse, depending on how you feel about enabling accidental poisonings), because I’m playing it safe here.
> 


  


_Hayato is nervous._

_He’s six years old, and, although he’s been playing the piano since he was two, this will be his first real recital, a solo performance in front of dozens of people. Father has invited everyone; the hall is filled with prominent, high-ranking guests from all the neighboring famiglias. Everyone looks very old and important._

_Hayato has been practicing for months. He knows the pieces well enough to play them with his eyes closed. But now that the day has finally arrived, it feels_ real _, and his confidence is waning._

_Father says he plays like a natural, that he has a gift. It’s one of the few nice things Father has ever said about him, and he desperately wants to please him today, to make him happy._

_He_ is _good at the piano, he thinks. His teachers have all said so too. And he likes to play. When it all comes together, when he’s feeling the music and lost in the moment, everything just flows and_ feels _right. It’s one of the only times he doesn’t feel bored or awkward or ill at ease, and he feels like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and everything just falls into place._

_But all of that just makes him more nervous today, because it’s even more on the line. And if he messes up, all of that will be ruined; he’ll lose the only thing that makes him feel capable and proud._

_So he’s nervous because of that. And he’s nervous also because he thinks, now, that he’s made a big mistake._

_Because Bianchi had been fussing over him earlier, and she’d known that he was worried, so she had made him cookies to cheer him up. Made with love, she said. So he’d eaten them without a second thought, but then something strange had happened, and he’d felt sick all of a sudden. Really sick. He feels cold and sweaty and shaky, and his stomach had already been feeling funny even before the cookies, but now it_ hurts _; it hurts so bad that he just wants to lie down and fold in on himself until it stops._

_But he can’t. Because it’s finally the recital day and he has to do a good job. But he’s only six, and right now he just wants to sit and cry._

_“Hayato!” And Father is coming over to him now, and instantly his resolve wilts again. Maybe, if he just explains how badly his stomach hurts, his father can make some excuse and postpone the concert. Maybe he’ll be just a little disappointed, but Hayato can make it up to him the next time._

_“Father,” he begins uncertainly. “I don’t feel so good…”_

_“Nonsense, it’s just nerves,” Father says with a dismissive smile. “It’s finally the big day. You’ve waited so long for this. You want to do well today, don’t you?”_

_Hayato hesitates, because he does. He wants to do well, he wants his father to be proud of him. But—his stomach lurches again. It feels like his insides are twisting up, on fire. It hurts._

_“Hayato,” Father says, “there’s someone here that I want you to meet.”_

_Hayato frowns as his father steps aside to introduce a young man standing behind him. This man is younger than any of the other people Hayato has seen around the castle today. He’s still a grown-up, but maybe just barely. His hair is straight and black with long bangs in the front. Cold hazel eyes meet Hayato’s own, and Hayato shrinks back just a little, because he has the sudden odd but inescapable feeling that this other man does not like him, at all._

_“This is Luca,” Father says. “He’s a young associate of mine.”_

_Luca holds out a hand, and Hayato doesn’t want to shake it, but does so anyway because Father wouldn’t approve of him not showing manners. But then his stomach lurches again, this time more insistently, and he panics because he thinks he’s about to puke, right here, in front of Father and_ everyone _. Somehow he holds it in, but doubles over with the effort._

_Now Father is frowning at him. “Are you all right, Hayato?”_

_“…My stomach,” Hayato manages to respond. He feels achy and faint._

_“Maybe we should postpone the recital, then,” Father says after a moment, and Hayato wants to burst with relief; yes, please; he doesn’t even care anymore; he just wants to curl up and close his eyes until the pain goes away._

_But then the young man—Luca—suddenly speaks up: “I don’t think that’s necessary, is it, Boss? It’s like you said earlier, he’s just nervous.”_

_And Hayato looks up, ready to scream at him that no, he’s not, he’s not nervous or faking it, he really_ is _sick, so shut up. But when he sees Luca’s face, something inside him stops short._

_It’s his eyes. They’re still cold, like before, but now…_

_He was wrong before, Hayato thinks in shock. About the other man not liking him. That’s not it. It’s not that he doesn’t like him.  
He hates him._

_Hayato doesn’t know how he knows this, but he does. One glance is all it takes. He looks back to his father, fearfully, but now Father won’t meet his eyes all of a sudden. He looks uncomfortable._

_“I’m not certain…” Father says hesitantly, and Hayato doesn’t understand._

_“I’m sure that’s what it is,” Luca says. “You shouldn’t let him get away with it. He’s at an impressionable age. If you let him back out whenever he says he has a tummy ache, before you know it, he’ll be all grown up and still crying to you every time he has to do anything important.”_

_“That’s not true!” Hayato protests, and immediately bites his lip because truthfully, he_ had _been only a few seconds away from crying. But he won’t do it now, because it’s_ not _true, what Luca just said, and he really_ does _feel sick; it was the cookies; it’s not just nerves!—_

_—but, but Father still won’t meet his eyes, and Hayato doesn’t understand what’s going on._

_And Luca looks at Hayato coldly and says, “You shouldn’t lie like that. You want to perform well today for your father, don’t you? You’re his golden boy, after all.”_

_And Father is looking at the ground now, and then at Luca, and he looks defeated somehow._

_“You’re right,” he says at last._

_“Father—” Hayato begins, but he’s cut off._

_“Hayato, stop complaining now, I mean it. All these people came out today to hear you play, so.” He finally looks at Hayato again, but now his expression is stern. “Do as you are expected.”_

_Hayato swallows back the rest of his protests because Father has never looked at him that way before. Finally he just nods._

_It’s a disaster. His stomach hurts so badly that he can’t play more than a few notes before the stabbing pains in his gut have him doubling over again. Eventually he’s just plunking keys at random, mangling his performance so badly that he’s sure Father will never allow him to play again._

_But what actually happens is even worse, because once he finishes playing, after a few seconds of shocked silence from the audience, Luca suddenly begins applauding wildly. And calling it a wonderfully abstract performance. Experimental. Avant-garde. And Hayato is sure he’s just mocking him, but then all of a sudden others are applauding too, and cheering and whooping in agreement._

_And then Luca says that Hayato must play for them all again soon, and Father nods and agrees that he will._

_And he does. Repeatedly, for the next two years, and each time Father insists that he eat another batch of Bianchi’s cookies beforehand. And gradually he becomes more and more distant._

_He never is able to fully meet Hayato’s eyes again._

\---

  
“ _Yes_!” Tsuna cried in triumph as his Dry Bones character received a well-timed mushroom boost to overtake Wario in the final lap.  
Yamamoto laughed beside him. “Easy, Tsuna, you’ll wake up Lambo and I-Pin!”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tsuna repeated in a whisper, but just as emphatically. Though the other two were downstairs, so it probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

He grinned when Yamamoto started laughing again. The other boy was currently in fifth place, and struggling to keep that position. Yamamoto was naturally good at almost everything, but Mario Kart was one of the few arenas where Tsuna was capable of beating him even on an off day. But it wasn’t like Yamamoto ever seemed to mind, which made this easily one of Tsuna’s favorite pastimes.

It was the start of their school break, so they had ten days’ worth of free time now before the new term started in April. Tsuna’s mom was already talking about enrolling him in a _juku_ in preparation for next year’s high school entrance exams. Gokudera had vowed he would enroll as well (despite having less need for a cram school than any other individual Tsuna had ever met), and Yamamoto had also promised to do so, assuming that the schedule would not interfere with his baseball practices. While this made Tsuna dread the upcoming school year marginally less, he was still not looking forward to the impending loss of all his remaining free time.

On top of that, he was sure that Reborn was already planning some sort of psychotic field trip or training exercise to take place during their break. No doubt this would be as stressful as it was life-threatening, and would probably drive him to the brink of his sanity.

All of which meant that tonight, and possibly the next couple of days, would be pretty much the only relaxation time he was going to get, and he fully intended to take advantage of every blissful, lazy moment of it.

He was _seconds_ away from clinching the first-place victory when Reborn appeared (out of _literally nowhere_ ) and kicked him the back of the head.

Really, he should have expected it.

As he sputtered incoherently while Yamamoto looked both concerned and (the traitor) trying not to laugh, Reborn said, “Emergency meeting time, No-Good Tsuna.”

Tsuna rubbed his aching head, eyeing Reborn in wounded exasperation, and was about to protest, but that was when he caught sight of Gokudera standing hesitantly by the entrance to his room.

And he frowned, because although he couldn’t say why, exactly, his intuition was immediately telling him that something was very, very wrong.

“Hey, Boss,” Gokudera said quietly, but something was off. The way he was kind of leaning on the doorframe, shoulders hunched, almost like he was afraid to come in. His hands were stuffed tightly in the pockets of his hoodie, and although he had tried to make eye contact with Tsuna upon greeting him, his eyes had almost instantly darted away afterward.

Tsuna opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but before he could get any words out, Yamamoto had suddenly gotten to his feet beside him.

“Gokudera? What happened to your neck?”

And Tsuna blinked in shock as he realized that Yamamoto was right. They were almost covered up by the hoodie, but upon closer inspection, there were indeed angry red and purple marks crisscrossed all around Gokudera’s throat and neck.

Looking uncomfortable, Gokudera glanced away, reaching to pull the edges of his hood up higher so that the marks were less conspicuous (but still visible; now that Tsuna had noticed, he couldn’t for the life of him say why he hadn’t spotted them instantly). He did not immediately respond.

“He was attacked,” Reborn said instead, and Tsuna whipped around in shock.

“Attacked?!”

“By who?” said Yamamoto.

“Is he okay—?!” Tsuna said, turning back to Gokudera urgently.

“I’m fine,” Gokudera quickly replied.

But he didn’t _look_ fine. His normal boisterous, over-the-top disposition was completely absent; he looked like he very much did not want to be there, still hunched in on himself and avoiding their gaze.

“Who did this?” Yamamoto said again, more insistently. His voice had an edge to it that Tsuna knew from past experience meant that he was contemplating something violent. Not that Tsuna was feeling much differently at the moment.

Once again, Reborn was the one to answer. “A hitman named Anthony Franco, who works for the DiSanto family in Italy.”

“Did you stop him?” Tsuna pressed. “I mean…” Obviously Gokudera had made it out in one piece, but had his attacker gotten away? Already his hand was halfway in his pocket, automatically reaching for his X-Glove mittens.

“He’s gone, for now,” Reborn said.

Something about the way he answered gave Tsuna pause just when he had been ready to take the gloves out. That, and the fact that it was still only Reborn responding, and that Gokudera was being so uncharacteristically quiet about all this.

“Why were they after Gokudera?” Yamamoto asked.

“You should ask Gokudera,” Reborn replied.

They looked back at him. Gokudera was still eyeing the floor. Finally he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Boss. I should have told you. I just…” He trailed off, looking agonized.

“It’s not good to keep secrets from family,” Reborn said wisely. Gokudera glanced up at him, and Tsuna didn’t at all like the expression on his face.

He was slowly starting to freak out, because Gokudera was plainly freaked out. Part of him wanted to scream at Gokudera to spit it out already. But he was clearly scared, and if it was something that he was afraid to tell Tsuna and Yamamoto, then Tsuna was almost afraid to know.

But he _had_ to know. “What secrets?” he asked. Yamamoto, meanwhile, had gone silent, but had a very serious look.

“I didn’t… It wasn’t your problem,” Gokudera said, looking over at the wall now. “…I didn’t want to get you involved. And I thought, anyway… that maybe I was done with it. I hoped.” He ran a hand through his hair, and then all of a sudden he laughed, bitterly. “Stupid.”

He shook his head, and then: “The DiSanto family is my birth family. Giovanni DiSanto, their Boss, is—was my father. Their new Boss…”

He hesitated once more. And then he said: “Their new Boss, Luca DiSanto, is my brother.”

\---

  
The instant he was finally able to get the words out, he wanted to close his eyes and disappear into the ground. He didn’t want to see their reactions. He wanted for this to have never happened. To go back to the way that everything was. To _not_ have such a stupid, fucked-up past with all these fucked-up secrets. Dead mothers, adulterous fathers, and homicidal half siblings.

He wanted to be able to laugh and to say that never mind, it was nothing, and to change the subject and forget about all of this. Because he knew that, now that this part of it was finally out, it would _all_ come out. All of the rest.

And he didn’t want to explain to Tsuna how his father had maybe killed his mother (and how the messed-up thing was that he didn’t even know for sure, that all he had to go on were his parents’ letters versus the gospel of gossipy family servants, because his father had never talked to him about any of this, ever, and now he would never be able to because ha ha, he was dead), and that the reason he’d maybe done so was to hide the fact that Gokudera was illegitimate.

He didn’t want to explain to Tsuna just what that actually meant in this world, in the mafia. How Gokudera’s very existence was a taboo, a source of shame. He didn’t know which would be worse: Tsuna turning his back on him once he fully understood, or Tsuna doing the opposite, and standing by him, and in doing so weakening his own position as Vongola Boss, all for Gokudera’s sake.

That was assuming that the rest of the Vongola—Reborn, Iemitsu, the Ninth—even permitted him to stay in the family at all. He would fully understand if they didn’t.

He’d thought about this so many times, and every time that Tsuna or one of the others did something unconditionally and unthinkingly kind, the guilt of knowing that he _hadn’t_ told them only doubled down. But that just made it even harder. To finally have a place where he felt like he belonged, was genuinely welcomed and appreciated, and to secretly be holding the other shoe in place all the while, desperately trying to keep it from ever dropping, knowing that it was impossible, but _needing_ it not to be… it was torturous. He couldn’t bear to think about it, so he shoved it all deep down, and he pretended.

And now it was finally time to face it.

But just when he thought he had finally worked up the courage to do so, Reborn suddenly spoke up and threw him for a complete loop.  
“Before you get into the whole story, you should know that Tsuna and Yamamoto already know about your mother.”

And Gokudera snapped his gaze to him, stunned.

“…What?”

Slowly, he looked back and forth from Tsuna to Yamamoto, at first completely taken aback, and then not quite daring to believe. “You both… is that true?”

“Ah…” said Tsuna after an awkward pause. “We do know. Well, some of it, anyway.”

“The kid told us about it a while back,” Yamamoto clarified.

“A while back?” repeated Gokudera, still in shock.

“Like… back when we were all in the future together.”

Gokudera stared at them.

They knew. They already knew, and they still…

“I…” Words failed him all of a sudden. He wanted to thank them. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask if it was really okay.

“Sorry we didn’t say anything,” Tsuna said, looking genuinely apologetic, and Gokudera immediately shook his head, because that was wrong.

“It should be me,” he said hoarsely. “I should’ve… I’m sorry.”

“I already knew about it from the start,” Reborn spoke up matter-of-factly. “I deemed it wasn’t necessary to tell them the rest, until now.”

He hopped off of the bed and onto Tsuna’s shoulder. “But now that Luca is making his move, it’s time that they knew about all of it, Gokudera.”

Gokudera nodded slowly. His throat was still hoarse; he was pretty sure it wasn’t from the attack earlier.

He plunged ahead. After all that… he owed it to them to give them the full story.

“Well, Luca… like I said, he’s my brother. Half-brother. Back before my father got married, he met some woman, and I guess… he got her pregnant. This was back when he was still a teenager, I guess… it would’ve had to have been. So she had a kid, but they weren’t married, and he was supposed to marry someone else. Betrothed. So basically he just turned his back on her and the kid both.

“And then like fifteen years later, she died, and by that time my father was married and he was the Boss, and he had my sister and me. And I guess maybe he felt guilty.” He shook his head in disgust. “Anyway, he took him in—Luca—and he made him a member of the family, and eventually he made him a Caporegime. But he didn’t tell anyone he was actually his son, of course. I don’t know how many of them actually knew, or put two and two together.

“Anyway. I didn’t know who he really was, at the time, but Luca must have known about me, because he…” He paused. “Well, he basically hated my fucking guts.”

“…Why?” Tsuna spoke up, sounding confused. “I mean, if he knew that you were really brothers, then why would he…?”

“Because to him, Gokudera is the one that had received everything he ever wanted,” Reborn replied.

_(But_ you _, for some reason—you got to be a normal, happy little kid. Don’t you think that’s messed up?)_

“Gokudera?”

He didn’t realize he had frozen until he felt Yamamoto’s hand on his shoulder. He blinked.

“…Sorry. Yeah. That’s basically it. We were both illegitimate, but I was raised in our father’s house as his legal son, whereas he was only taken in after he was basically already grown, and he was still never acknowledged.”

He shoved the rest of those memories away, firmly. It wasn’t relevant, and he was too exhausted to deal with any of that right now.

“So he did his best to make my life shit for a couple of years, and then I left, and that was the last I ever heard from him.”

“Until tonight,” Reborn said.

Gokudera unconsciously reached up to touch his throat again, and he nodded. He felt Yamamoto’s grip tighten ever so slightly, hand still resting on his shoulder, and he knew that he should shout at him to respect his fucking personal space, or simply shake him off. But he didn’t want to.

“Until tonight,” he echoed. “So apparently now he’s taken over the family, and that’s why he wants me dead…”

A thought dawned on him Belatedly—far too belatedly.

“Wait a minute—”

He was thinking about it wrong. Luca hated him, yes, had always hated him, so when he’d sent his men after him tonight, he’d immediately assumed it was just the final nail in the coffin; Luca finally finishing what he’d so obviously wanted to do all these years.

But that wasn’t right. If Luca really wanted him dead to begin with, he could have done it years ago. Specifically, six years ago, on the night Gokudera had left. Means, motive, and opportunity. But he hadn’t, not then. So why now, all of a sudden, now that he was finally Boss?

It didn’t make sense, unless it actually had nothing at all to do with his personal feelings toward Gokudera, but was instead for another reason entirely.

If, for example, he was simply trying to take out any possible rivals toward succession.

In which case—

He looked at Reborn in horror. “My sister—”

“She’s fine,” Reborn cut him off.

Relief flooded through him so suddenly and strongly he almost thought he would collapse, but Yamamoto held him steady.

“Are you sure?”

“Shamal is currently watching over her. CEDEF as well.”

Gokudera exhaled slowly, clenching a fist.

“I don’t want her to get involved,” he said.

“If she becomes fully aware of the situation, you won’t be able to keep her out,” Reborn cautioned. “But right now she’s removed from the current crisis. Shamal fed her a cover story, and they’re currently out of the country. At the moment, she’s actually in a much safer position than you.”

That was probably true. He fought the urge to wince.

“Where is Luca now?” Tsuna spoke up suddenly. “Is he in Japan?”

Gokudera opened his mouth to respond, then realized he didn’t actually know.

“He’s in Italy,” Reborn answered them both. “He’s taken over the DiSanto family’s castle outside of Palermo.”

“Italy, huh…” Yamamoto said thoughtfully.

Gokudera frowned at him.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing it’s spring break,” Yamamoto continued.

“I’ll have to make up something to tell my mom,” said Tsuna.

“Wait a sec,” Gokudera said, not yet comprehending. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll just tell her I’m taking you on a cultural trip,” Reborn said, casually bouncing from Tsuna’s shoulder over to Yamamoto’s. “After all, it’s about time you visited the homeland anyway.”

“That’s right, Tsuna, you’ve never been there, have you?” Yamamoto said, grinning.

It fully dawned on Gokudera then, and now he did finally brush Yamamoto’s hand away. “No,” he said. “Boss—you can’t.”

“If he’s threatening one of my friends, I’m not just going to sit back and let him,” said Tsuna firmly, and Gokudera felt a sudden rush of overwhelming gratitude and awe. Here he had been utterly terrified only minutes ago of revealing his past to the others, and admitting he’d been keeping this secret from them which could have potentially put them in danger. But, far from caring about that, all they were concerned about was keeping _him_ out of danger.

He was simultaneously moved beyond words, and instantly terrified all over again, because the last thing he wanted was for them to jump in and get involved in something that they should rightfully have nothing to do with, and for them to possibly get hurt on his behalf. He couldn’t take it if that happened.

“You can’t just take him on like that,” he said.

“Gokudera-kun—” Tsuna began, frowning.

“He’s _dangerous_.”

“We can handle it, Gokudera,” Yamamoto said reassuringly. “We’ve fought dangerous guys before.”

“Not like this!” Gokudera snapped, rounding on him.

“He can’t be worse than Byakuran, or Jager, or Bermuda—”

“You’re _not listening_!” Gokudera exploded suddenly, and Yamamoto stopped short.

For a moment it was silent in the room. Gokudera suddenly realized that he was shaking. He forced himself to get his breathing back under control, his fists clenched harder than ever.

“We are listening, Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna said softly, finally breaking the silence.

Gokudera looked back at him, pained.

“…I’m telling you that he’s dangerous,” he said again. “He has… he’s got a trump card.”

“The Consummate Command,” Reborn said keenly.

Gokudera looked at him, startled—but of course he would know. “Yes.”

“What is that?” Tsuna asked.

“It’s the special ability passed down in the DiSanto famiglia,” Reborn answered. “Like your intuition, No-Good Tsuna.”

“Eh? Really?” Yamamoto said, looking at Gokudera in surprise.

“I don’t have it,” Gokudera quickly said. “Neither does my sister. At least, I think,” he amended.

“But Luca does,” Reborn said, looking at Gokudera for confirmation, and Gokudera nodded.

“I’ve seen it,” he said, not wanting to think on it any more than that.

“So what is it? This ‘command’ thing?” Yamamoto pressed.

“It’s a form of hypnotic mind control,” Reborn answered. “It’s not completely unlike Mukuro’s possession ability. But this doesn’t require the use of a special bullet, or for the victim to be marked ahead of time in any way. It can be used indiscriminately.”

“He can make you do whatever he wants,” Gokudera said. “Anything at all. All he has to do is say it.”

“It’s how the DiSanto family rose to power in the first place,” Reborn continued. “Past generations made liberal use of that ability to gather countless followers and vast quantities of wealth.

“However, over the years, the bloodline started to die out. More recently, only one or two people per generation have been confirmed to have the ability, and its scope is more limited as well. Past Bosses of the DiSanto clan were able to manipulate entire armies, but recent generations could control only a single person at a time. Because of that, they started to scale back, and the last few Bosses only ever used the ability sparingly, out of fear that other families would stop dealing with them altogether, or simply assassinate the remaining leaders to wipe out the last of the bloodline.”

“That’s how it was until now,” Gokudera said. “But Luca won’t play by those rules. I know how he is. He’s not gonna hold back.”

“He already isn’t,” Reborn agreed. “He knows Gokudera is one of Vongola’s Guardians, and he was willing to risk starting a war in order to target him anyway.”

“Then we have to do something before it gets any further out of hand,” Tsuna said.

“Boss—” Gokudera started to protest again.

“I understand, Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna cut him off. “He’s dangerous, like you said, so we won’t do anything rash. But waiting and doing nothing won’t solve the problem either.”

“It’s not _your_ problem,” Gokudera said frustratedly.

“It is.”

Gokudera started to shake his head, but then Tsuna said, “We’re family, Gokudera-kun.”

And Gokudera felt his resolve starting to slip away as he looked at Tsuna. He had moved in closer so that they were now standing face to face, and he had such a clear, unflinching look in his eyes that for a moment, Gokudera believed he really could do it; that they could take care of this, no problem. Because it was Tsuna, who never, ever backed down when it came to something truly important; and when push came to shove, he had never once failed to rise to the occasion.

But then his brother’s face flashed in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t push away the terrifying, cold feeling that went along with it.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispered.

For a brief second, something pained flashed across Tsuna’s face. He looked like he didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

But then Yamamoto said, “Gokudera. It’ll be all right.” And he smiled when Gokudera looked up at him. “You’ve gotta trust us, okay? Trust Tsuna.”

Gokudera looked back at Tsuna, still unsure.

“Please,” was all Tsuna said.

For the second time that night, Gokudera felt a stinging in the back of his eyes. He ducked his head so that the others couldn’t see.

Finally, he gave a short nod.

“Then it’s settled,” said Reborn. “We’re going to Italy.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I just want to take a sec and discuss the whole name issue before we get too far into this thing.
> 
> So yeah, while planning this story and coming up with the backstory, I decided for a number of reasons not to use “Gokudera” as his family’s name. This is one of the few things in this fic (to my knowledge) that does not 100% line up with the established canon; specifically, some translations of chapter 162, as well as Gokudera’s Secret Bullet novel backstory, _Bakudan Bambino_.
> 
> However! I decided not to go with those, and here’s why.
> 
>   1. First and foremost, “Gokudera” is _not an Italian fucking name_. And as far as we know, unlike the Vongola, none of Gokudera’s ancestors dipped the fuck out and retired to Japan. In fact, Gokudera’s own Japanese heritage is an important plot point because it’s so unusual in the mafia world. And none of the other Italian characters have Japanese names. So basically, it makes zero sense for his folks be rocking a Japanese surname.
>   2. Bianchi never once goes by the name “Gokudera”, which would be her own surname if it actually was their father’s. In fact, Bianchi’s last name is never mentioned at all. It therefore would make perfect sense if the reason was because it was different from her brother’s last name.
>   3. Lastly, it’s clearly established that Gokudera (at least prior to chapter 292) despises his family, and wants absolutely nothing to do with them (Bianchi excluded). And in particular, he hates his father. For this reason, it’s really hard for me to picture him keeping the man’s last name, let alone going by it exclusively and insisting that everyone call him that, rather than his given name. What _would_ make much more sense, though, is if “Gokudera” was actually his _mother’s_ surname, and he adopted it himself as a form of tribute to her. It also perfectly explains the fact that, once again, it is a Japanese name and not at all Italian.
> 

> 
> As for the name “DiSanto”, there’s no real story behind it; I was testing out random Italian names and just happened to like the way this one sounded, and wasn’t thinking on it too much aside from that. That’s really all there is to it.
> 
> So that’s that! If anyone has any feedback regarding this topic (or, you know, the other huge canon-altering thing I also dropped and then didn’t essay about), feel free to hit me up. Hope you guys are enjoying the fic so far.


	4. Target 03 - Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids arrive in Italy, and the Vongola proceed to reenact the Council of Elrond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all your super nice feedback so far! I hope you continue to enjoy it. This is more of a setup chapter here, but next chapter things will start to pick up.
> 
>  **Warnings** – None for this chapter.

  


“Well?” Luca said. He was seated at the desk in his father’s old study, legs crossed and leaning back, idly fiddling with an expensive-looking fountain pen.

“Your siblings are still alive,” said Anthony, who had spent the entire flight back pondering how to break this news to Luca, and had decided in the end to simply give him the honest truth and let the other man respond as he would. “And Mangiamo’s dead,” he added regretfully. He doubted Luca would care in the slightest about that last, but Anthony himself couldn’t help but feel responsible for getting the younger hitman involved in this.

“Send a basket to his widow.”

“Sure, that’ll make it all better.”

“I’m not the one who got her husband killed,” Luca said with an admonishing look.

“And I take full responsibility,” Anthony replied. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.”

Anthony sighed. “You’re really not upset about the other part?”

“It’s fine,” Luca said. “I didn’t expect you to succeed.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Both of my siblings have managed to cement themselves in the most powerful family on the planet,” said Luca, now rising to his feet and beginning to pace the room thoughtfully. “So yes, I would have been shocked if we’d managed to take them out that easily.”

He paused by an antique globe, slowly tracing along the continents with his fingers. “But this isn’t such a bad development. It was always going to be too difficult to take on the Vongola Tenth Boss on his own turf.”

“They’re calling him Neo Vongola Primo now,” Anthony corrected as an afterthought.

Luca looked at him quizzically. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Anthony admitted. “But please, continue. You were saying something reckless and absurd about picking a fight with the Vongola?”

Luca shot him an annoyed glance. “Not that absurd.”

“It absolutely is absurd,” Anthony said without missing a beat. It was always hard to reason with Luca when he got like this, fixated and stubborn, but he still had to try. “Did you yourself not just refer to them as the most powerful family on the planet, not one minute ago?”

“Their Boss is still a child.”

“With the Vongola Rings. The Dying Will flame. And, oh yes, the world’s strongest hitman as his personal mentor.”

“Starting to regret appointing you as my Consigliere.”

“Too late.” He shifted to a more somber tone. “Boss, in all seriousness, this is not a good idea. You don’t want to go to the mattresses against the Vongola. On their turf, or our own.”

“You can relax, Anthony. I don’t plan to go to war with them.”

This gave Anthony pause. “Then… you want to fill me in on whatever it is you actually are planning?” He frowned. “Because it seems to me like murdering one of their Guardians is gonna give off the wrong kind of impression.”

“That’s just it,” Luca replied. And when Anthony raised an eyebrow at him, he continued: “While you were away, I had a change of heart. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and well…”

He trailed off, and Anthony studied him carefully, thrown for a loop by this newest development.

“Luca,” he said after a long moment. “What are you thinking, huh?”

Luca gave a short laugh. “I don’t know. Just… both my parents are dead now.” He sighed. “And Hayato’s been gone for years. Bianchi, she’s a lost cause, I already know, but… I just got to thinking.”

“…You don’t want to kill him,” Anthony finished.

Luca met his eyes meaningfully. “Maybe not.”

Anthony rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. He didn’t particularly like where this was going, but he also knew where Luca was coming from.

More importantly, he already knew that there would be no talking him out of it.

“So I’ll wait,” Luca concluded. “We don’t have to do anything further right now. He’ll come to me.”

“You sure about that?”

Luca smiled.

“I am.”

  


\---

  


“You okay?” Yamamoto asked in a hushed tone, quietly edging closer to Gokudera.

“For the last time, yes,” Gokudera replied through gritted teeth.

“Just making sure.”

“I really wish you’d quit asking.”

“I’m only asking because you keep seeming like you’re distracted.”

Gokudera exhaled. “What makes you think that?”

Yamamoto grinned. “Well, for one thing, you haven’t yelled at me once since we got here. You haven’t even told me to stop fiddling with my jacket.”

Gokudera fixed him with the most withering glare imaginable. “ _Stop fiddling with your fucking jacket_.”

Yamamoto laughed, as was expected of him.

Deep down, though, he was still concerned. He’d played the observation off as a joke, but Gokudera really _had_ been preoccupied for the past two days, ever since he had told them all about his family and the attack. More than preoccupied; he was moody, sullen, and withdrawn, yet at the same time he seemed hyper-alert and constantly on his guard.

And it wasn’t like Yamamoto couldn’t understand why, after everything he’d told them. First he’d almost been killed (and even now Yamamoto was fighting off the constant urge to stare at the bandages around Gokudera’s neck in concern), and then he’d suddenly had to contend with the reappearance of his apparently murderous half-brother. And although he hadn’t actually admitted as much out loud, Gokudera was clearly terrified of Luca. Yamamoto didn’t know how much of their personal history he was still holding back from him and Tsuna, but there was no missing the way that Gokudera’s entire frame seemed to tense whenever he spoke about him, or how the pace of his breathing would rapidly pick up.

On top of all that, Yamamoto had also quietly taken note of the way Gokudera had spoken of his father in the past tense ( _Giovanni DiSanto is—was my father_ ), and then had very deliberately steered entirely clear of the subject afterwards.

Clearly there was a lot on his plate, and Yamamoto knew that at times like these, Gokudera tended to react by retreating into himself, and trying to push everyone else away. So he was determined to make sure Gokudera understood that he and Tsuna had his back, and that they weren’t going anywhere.

So far, this had consisted of hovering close by at all times. He knew from personal experience that this tended to annoy the _hell_ out of Gokudera, which was why he was amazed and frankly a little disturbed that the other boy still had yet to blow up at him or tell him to fuck off.

So he hovered all the closer, and fiddled with his suit jacket a bit more.

Beside him, Tsuna cleared his throat uneasily, perhaps to alleviate the sudden awkward silence.

Right. Tsuna hadn’t been particularly talkative either since their arrival in Italy. The three of them—it was only them (plus Reborn of course), at Gokudera’s insistence; he wanted to keep as few people involved as possible, and Reborn had agreed that the three of them would be enough to handle it—were currently seated on a leather couch in one of the most beautifully ornate hallways that Yamamoto had ever seen, inside the Vongola mansion. It was Yamamoto’s second time in Italy, but his first time visiting the Vongola headquarters in the mountains just outside Palermo. Needless to say, it was just a little bit bigger than Dino’s villa.

“I still can’t believe your house has an elevator, Tsuna,” he said in amazement.

“It’s not my house,” Tsuna muttered.

“It basically is, though,” Yamamoto reasoned cheerfully. “You’re the Boss, after all.”

“Yamamoto…” Tsuna groaned. “Please not now.”

“Sorry.” Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head, wondering how much longer they were going to be sitting here waiting.

It wasn’t like it was a particularly _uncomfortable_ place to wait. They were surrounded by marble tile, gorgeous wooden details, and more paintings than Yamamoto had ever before seen in a single room outside of a museum. If anything, the problem with the mansion was that it was almost too lavish. Yamamoto couldn’t help but feel as though he shouldn’t even be touching anything. Not exactly a homey atmosphere.

And not exactly a welcoming one, either. Although they had been greeted the previous evening by a number of extremely accommodating servants who had gotten them settled in their rooms and expertly seen to all their needs, they had yet to actually meet with or even see the Ninth Boss or any of his Guardians. Yamamoto couldn’t help but feel like they were being treated less like equal, full-fledged members of the family, and more like… well, kids.

Which they were, to be fair. But all the same, it seemed like the Ninth was going about his business of running the family’s operations as usual, and was treating this matter as an afterthought; a distraction, rather than any kind of priority. Even now, they were stuck out here in the hallway while the adults conducted their meeting, waiting until the discussion finally shifted to the DiSanto situation, at which point they would finally be invited in. He really was trying to be patient, but even for him, it was starting to be a bit much.

Just when he was starting to want to yell at _himself_ to stop fidgeting, the thick mahogany doors finally opened, and Reborn appeared.

“The Ninth is ready to meet with you now, Tsuna.”

Tsuna shot a quick glance toward the other two, and they all stood up, Yamamoto and Gokudera automatically filing in on either side of him.

“Tsunayoshi-kun, it’s good to see you again,” said the Ninth as they all entered. He was seated at the head of a table in the center of the room. Surrounding him were six of the most interesting-looking people Yamamoto had ever seen. Most of them looked to be similar in age to the Ninth, and Yamamoto supposed that these must be his Guardians, just like he and Gokudera were Tsuna’s.

For a brief moment, he imagined the three of them all together like this, one day in the far future; himself and Gokudera all matured, battle-hardened, and grizzled, but still at Tsuna’s side. It wasn’t exactly the typical where-do-you-see-yourself-twenty-or-thirty-years-from-now, but somehow the thought of it still made him smile.

One of the men had a lizard tattoo on his cheek; another was almost completely covered in scars. There was one man who seemed to be a fair bit younger than the rest. He had black hair with a shock of blond towards the front, but what Yamamoto particularly took note of was the way that he and Gokudera oddly seemed to exchange glances as they entered the room.

He filed it away in the back of his mind, just in case. He liked these Guardians already, and he knew that they were all allies, but a part of his mind still urged him to be cautious.

“I believe everyone here has previously been introduced,” the Ninth was saying pleasantly.

“Everyone except for Tsuna’s Rain Guardian,” Reborn said.

“Ah, of course; he wasn’t at the Inheritance Ceremony,” said the Ninth. “Yamamoto Takeshi. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance for the first time.”

It wasn’t technically the first time Yamamoto had ever seen the Ninth, but he supposed that the Cloud Ring battle, during which the Ninth had been grievously injured, didn’t really count. He was happy to properly meet him for the first time, though. “Hello,” he said brightly.

Something about the man’s smile reminded him of Tsuna. Wide open, like the clear sky. Someone that you could trust—but at the same time, someone not to underestimate.

He suddenly realized everyone was staring at him (several of them in a kind of outraged, near-sputtering horror), and a second later it hit him that he might have been a little too informal. “Uh… sir,” he added with an apologetic smile.

He thought he might be in trouble, but then just like that, the Ninth started to laugh, defusing the tension. Gokudera shot Yamamoto a look that promised a good ass-kicking when this was all over, and then at the Ninth’s beckoning, the three of them took their seats.

“Reborn was just updating us on the DiSanto situation,” said the Ninth.

“It seems that since the first couple days of the coup, they’ve settled down and have been playing things cautiously,” Reborn said. “It’s true that they’ve made some moves on one or two new territories that they had formerly left alone. But aside from that, they’ve stopped short of doing anything that might cause a serious rift between themselves and one of the other local families.

“In particular, they’ve been careful not to target anyone who is directly under the Vongola’s protection, or is one of our allies. Nothing that would be an open declaration of war—that is, except for the attack on Gokudera.”

“Which in itself is already a declaration of war,” said the younger man who had given Gokudera the odd look earlier. “An attack on one of the Vongola Guardians is an attack on the Vongola. The question is, are we going to treat it as such?” He looked at the Ninth questioningly.

“That is the decision currently at hand,” said the Ninth.

“If we do nothing, the family will seem weak,” Reborn said. “But if we move too aggressively, we’ll be seen as ruthless instead.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” said another of the Ninth’s Guardians—the one with the bright red mohawk and cornrows.

“I’m not concerned with appearances,” the Ninth said dismissively. “My priority is the family’s well-being.”

Next to Yamamoto, Gokudera shifted uncomfortably.

“That’s why we need to know the enemy’s exact capabilities,” the Ninth continued. “We cannot make our final decision until we have evaluated all of our options.”

“I told them about the Consummate Command,” Reborn explained to Tsuna’s group. “But to formulate a strategy, we’ll need to know exactly how powerful Luca DiSanto actually is. That’s why we need your input, Gokudera.”

Gokudera took a deep breath, as though composing himself. “He’s strong. I don’t know the full extent, but he has at least as much control over the Command ability as my… father did. So, full control over anyone he chooses to manipulate.”

“When you say ‘full control’, you mean…?” said a Guardian with slicked-back gray hair and a pair of sunglasses on his head.

“I mean anything. He could make you attack civilians, or your own men, or put a bullet to your own head.” He appeared to suppress a shudder. “Whatever he wants.”

“Civilian risk is a major issue,” said the younger Guardian. “We don’t want any bystanders getting hurt or killed.”

“Ganauche is correct,” the Ninth said. “What kind of precautions can we take to prevent this?”

“This ability must have some limits,” said the Guardian with the lizard tattoo. “Is there any kind of range?”

Gokudera looked uncertain. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. I think… he needs to be able to direct it, so it might be possible to avoid it if you were concealed. But it’s not a guarantee.”

“There’s also the one-person limit,” Reborn added.

“So maybe target him with a group of people, possibly concealed with Mist illusions?” said the young Guardian—Ganauche. “What do you think, Boss?”

The Ninth looked thoughtful. Then he said, “Tsunayoshi-kun.”

Tsuna gave a start. “Y—yes?”

The Ninth smiled at him. “It’s true that this would normally be my decision. We are in Italy, not Japan, and I am still head of the family, since we never were able to complete the Inheritance Ceremony.

“However… since this situation directly involves one of your own Guardians, I’m inclined to leave the final decision to you.”

All eyes turned to Tsuna. He looked nervous for a moment, but then seemed to find his resolve.

“I think… we need to act,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

He hesitated. “But I also don’t like the idea of just assassinating someone from the shadows. It’s too cold-blooded… it just doesn’t feel right for the Vongola to do that. It’s not the kind of family we should be. Ah—even though I’m not actually the Boss!” he tacked on quickly.

The mohawk-Guardian frowned. “It might not be pretty, but if you don’t want people getting hurt, assassinating him would be the simplest and cleanest resolution.”

“That depends on your definition of clean,” Reborn said. “Assassinating another family’s Boss in cold blood is the kind of move that puts a potential target on our backs in the future.”

“I don’t like it either,” said the scar-faced Guardian. “These things lead to retaliations.”

“Now we’re just going in circles,” Ganauche said. “Don’t attack them so they won’t attack us back. Except that they already did attack us; that’s what started this all in the first place.”

“There’s a difference between flat-out murder and acting to protect the family,” someone else cut in.

“What other action can we take in this situation?” another one demanded.

Several voices then broke in all at once, and for a few moments the room was chaotic. It seemed like everyone was talking at the same time. Everyone except for Tsuna, himself, the Ninth… and Gokudera, who had his head tilted down so that Yamamoto couldn’t see his expression.

Then, suddenly, the chair next to Yamamoto slid back, and beside him, Gokudera stood up.

“There might be a way,” he said, loud enough for the rest of the room to quiet down.

“…I know how to get in touch with an old contact who’s still in the DiSanto family. I can arrange to meet him, and maybe… maybe they can put in a good word with Luca to negotiate some kind of truce.”

There was a silence as everyone seemed to process this. Yamamoto noticed that Ganauche once again had a strange look as he eyed Gokudera thoughtfully. So did Reborn, oddly enough. 

The Ninth, however, seemed satisfied. “Thank you, Gokudera-kun. I believe that at the moment, this seems to be our best option. What do you think, Tsunayoshi-kun?”

Tsuna looked back and forth from Gokudera to the Ninth. “I think it’s a good plan,” he said at last. “But… is it really all right with you, Gokudera-kun?”

Yamamoto watched as the usual range of Tsuna-related emotions flickered across Gokudera’s face—gratitude, admiration, and borderline reverence. But there was also something else there that Yamamoto, even knowing the other boy as well as he did, couldn’t quite place.

However, all Gokudera said was: “Don’t worry about me, Boss. It’ll be fine.”

Tsuna seemed like he might be having the same confused feelings of doubt as Yamamoto. Nonetheless, after a moment he nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ganauche spoke up. “When you meet your contact. If that’s okay with you, Boss,” he added with a glance back toward the Ninth.

“I have no objection,” the Ninth replied. “Reborn, in that case, I’ll leave the rest to you and the young tenth generation.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Reborn said.

“Keep me advised at all times. Then, if no one has anything else of note to add, I’ll dismiss you all.”

As Yamamoto rose to his feet, he tried to give Gokudera an encouraging look; however the other boy wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead brushing past him to exit the room as quickly as he could.

Yamamoto was still staring after him with a frown when Reborn came over and hopped onto his shoulder.

“Have you been keeping up with your sword training?” he asked casually.

“Heh,” Yamamoto said. He had, of course. “Are we going to need it?”

“Who knows?” And with that, he leapt back down and disappeared down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the game is afoot. Next chapter we’ll finally see some action.
> 
> Did Coyote Nougat actually die in chapter 299?? I’m going with ‘no’, but I also didn’t give him any lines here because I’m annoyed at how ambiguous it was. This series is hard enough to keep track of as it is.


	5. Target 04 - Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group heads downtown to put Gokudera's plan in action--but things take a turn for the unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what, I have so many notes at the end of this chapter that I’m not gonna bother with anything up here. No warnings for this chapter either.

  


“So tell us about your contact,” Ganauche said.

“His name is Trucco Inganno,” said Gokudera. “He’s an associate of the DiSanto family. Not a full-fledged member, but he’s worked with them pretty often over the years, and they trust him.”

“And you think he’d be able to arrange a meeting with your brother?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it’s our best bet.”

“Do you trust him?” Reborn asked.

“…Well enough. We did a couple of jobs together a few years back. I think he’d hear me out.”

“Good. Then the next step is getting in contact with him.”

Gokudera hesitated. “There’s a bar downtown that he frequents a lot. Or at least he did back in the day.”

“…That’s it?” said Ganauche. “You know what bar he likes to go to? No offense, but that’s pretty iffy.”

Gokudera glared. “You have a better idea?”

“No, but I still reserve the right to complain.”

“So what’s the plan?” broke in Tsuna.

Gokudera looked uncomfortable. “I think… it might be better if I go alone, Boss.”

“Nope,” Ganauche said immediately.

“That’s not happening, Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna said.

“Look,” Gokudera protested, “if we all go and Trucco sees a bunch of Vongola guys there, he might get spooked and run off—”

“Then we’ll figure something else out.”

“Tsuna’s right, Gokudera,” Yamamoto chimed in. “You going in alone is way too dangerous.”

“This is a group operation,” Reborn said decisively. Then, before Gokudera could open his mouth to object again: “Unless you’re going to question the Boss’s final decision?”

Much to Yamamoto’s surprise, for a brief moment it looked like Gokudera actually was considering just that. But finally he grunted an assent and folded his arms.

“Good,” said Reborn. “Then, Gokudera, you’ll give us your contact’s description. You and Ganauche will wait in the bar, and Tsuna, Yamamoto, and I will find a nearby location and watch from the outside. We’ll use Giannini’s wireless headsets to communicate.”

“We should station a few other men in disguise around the area just in case,” Ganauche said.

“Agreed.”

“Ha ha, it’s almost like a spy operation,” Yamamoto said, bemused.

Gokudera shot him a glare. “You better fucking take this seriously, Baseball Idiot.”

“I am!” He paused. “…Can we make up code names, though?”

And although he really _was_ taking it seriously, he had to fight not to crack up at the look that Gokudera gave him.

“ _No_ , because _this is real life_ and not a side mission in _Call of Duty_!”

“Okay,” Yamamoto said before turning to the kid. “Reborn, can we have code names?”

“Sure,” Reborn said.

Gokudera threw his hands up exasperatedly as Yamamoto grinned and said, “Then in that case, Tsuna, you can be…” He considered. “Nova Prime.”

Tsuna just nodded, looking like he really didn’t want to get involved in this discussion.

“Ganauche—” Yamamoto said.

“So this is really happening?” Ganauche muttered.

“—You’ll be… Aftershock.”

“I’ll be Thanatos,” Reborn said brightly.

“ _Fine_ ,” sighed Gokudera, “then I’ll be Cyclogenesis. And the baseball moron can be…” He fixed Yamamoto with a sardonic look. “…Puddle Jumper.”

“I was thinking something like ‘Battousai,’” said Yamamoto.

“Too late, it’s settled. This was your stupid idea. Now can we focus?”

Since he didn’t really mind, and especially because he felt relieved that the tension had finally defused for the first time in what felt like days—even if it had been brief—Yamamoto nodded.

He just hoped the relief would last. He had a feeling things were about to get serious.

  


\---

  


Anthony leaned against the veranda’s stone railing. “You’re sure?” he said into the phone. “…All right; good work. Notify me right away if anything changes.” 

He could see that Luca’s interest had piqued from where he sat a few feet away, but he waited until Anthony had hung up before he raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“That was Pazza Luna,” Anthony informed him. “I sent him to Namimori to keep tabs on the Vongola’s whereabouts.”

“And?” Luca pressed.

“Well, as you know, a jet arrived in Punta Raisi yesterday and entered the Vongola’s private hangar. We weren’t able to confirm who was on board, so Pazza has been tracking the ones who are still in Japan. Based on process of elimination, your brother was almost certainly on the plane, along with the young Vongola Boss, and one more of his Guardians.”

“Only one?”

“Pretty sure,” Anthony said. “The only Guardians not accounted for were Storm and Rain. And Reborn is most likely with them also.”

“Of course,” nodded Luca. “Wherever Tsunayoshi goes, Reborn goes.”

“Seems to be the case.”

Luca was quiet for a long moment, seemingly in thought. Finally he said, “Well then, Anthony, how would you feel about a night on the town?”

Anthony sighed. “Guessing that’s not a suggestion.”

“And bring your wife as well,” Luca added. “We’ll have need of her particular skillset.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“Not that romantic,” Luca said with a smile. “I’ll be going with you.”

Anthony shot him a disbelieving look. “…I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“ _That_ wasn’t a suggestion.”

Anthony bit back another sigh. “So when you made me Consigliere, were you already planning then to just never listen to me, or…?”

“I’ve made my decision,” said Luca, standing up and walking over to the edge of the veranda steps.

“ _Luca_ ,” said Anthony, frustrated. Luca glanced back over his shoulder. “They’re _waiting_ for you to leave the castle so they can make a move.”

Luca looked contemplative for a moment. “…Maybe you’re right. But I don’t think so. That’s not really the Vongola’s style. At least not since they started bringing the kid into the fold.”

“Even if that’s the case,” Anthony pressed, “that _kid_ is still strong enough to wipe out our entire family if he wanted to. I heard he defeated a Vindice, for God’s sake. You can’t go in underestimating him.”

Luca turned back toward the steps, looking out onto the gardens as they bathed in the late afternoon light. “…He’s the one who’ll underestimate me.”

Anthony folded his arms and closed his eyes, rubbing tiredly at his forehead, and then at his not-quite-a-beard. Then, after about a minute’s silence, he exhaled very slowly and moved to stand beside Luca.

The other man didn’t look back at him again, but he acknowledged the gesture with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Anthony,” he said. “I do listen to you. I’ll play it smart. But I’m still going.”

“…Fine. I’ll call Bella. But if we’re going to do this, Boss, then we should do it carefully.”

“I’m open to ideas.”

“For starters, considering who we’re up against, I’m gonna suggest we bring along a few more people.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Anthony considered.

  


\---

  


Although the plan had called for Reborn, Yamamoto, and himself to keep eyes on the bar’s entrance while blending in as tourists dining at the bistro across the square, Tsuna couldn’t help but feel like they were taking the definition of “blending in” _very_ loosely. 

For starters, Reborn was the only one of the three who actually spoke Italian. This was bad enough considering that he was actually an infant; it only got worse when Reborn insisted on ordering, among other things, a bottle of wine for the table. And for some reason that Tsuna couldn’t fathom, the restaurant had actually _obliged_ ; and so the other two now sat sipping contentedly, while he himself sat hunched in awkward embarrassment.

“It’s a beautiful evening,” Reborn said.

“It is really nice, isn’t it?” Yamamoto agreed. “Look at that sunset. I know it’s a mission, but right now, this really does almost feel like a vacation, doesn’t it, Tsuna?”

“Sure,” said Tsuna weakly, and Yamamoto laughed.

“You should try it!”

“Tsuna’s too young to drink,” Reborn said parentally.

“You’re one to talk!” Tsuna sputtered, red-faced.

“Hey, hey,” said Yamamoto with a smile. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, meeting Tsuna’s eyes in that seemingly-carefree-yet-peculiarly-insightful manner that he had. “Try to relax, okay, Nova?”

“…Are we really doing the code names?”

“Puddle Jumper wanted to do them, so we should humor him, Boss,” crackled Gokudera’s voice over the headset.

Yamamoto laughed. “Do you guys see anyone yet?”

“Not yet.” That was Ganauche. “But the night is still young.”

“We might be here a while,” Gokudera admitted.

“In that case,” said Reborn, “we’ll need more wine.”

Tsuna groaned.

  


\---

  


“Describe him again for me one more time,” Ganauche said. 

Across from him, the kid sighed. “About five-foot-ten; early twenties. Big forehead, bushy eyebrows, thinning hair, and a mustache.”

“I wish it wasn’t so damn dark in here,” Ganauche muttered. “Don’t know why these meeting spots always have to have such terrible fucking lighting.”

“Isn’t it so that nobody can see what you’re doing?”

“If you’re good enough, they either won’t notice anyway, or they’ll be too intimidated to stop you.”

The kid muttered something vaguely conceding, then fell back into silence.

“He might not show,” said Ganauche after they had sat like that for a few more minutes.

“…Mmm,” said Gokudera noncommittally.

Ganauche sighed. In his earpiece he could faintly hear the lighthearted chatter coming from Reborn’s group.

“…Look, kid—” he began.

And that was when another voice suddenly exploded in his ear.

“ _Boss_!”

Ganauche’s hand shot to his ear. That was San Remo, one of the Vongola subordinates that had accompanied them to keep watch from nearby. “What is it?!”

“We’re— _aargh_!—we’re under attack—!”

In an instant, Ganauche was on his feet. “Where are you now?”

“We— _aagh_!” 

There was sound of a crash, accompanied by screaming, and then the comm went silent.

“San?” Nothing.

“Damn it!” he shouted, all thoughts of keeping a low profile forgotten. He turned around to tell the kid to forget the plan for now—

—but the kid was gone.

“Gokudera!” He cast around, but there was no sign of him.

His earpiece, though, lay abandoned on the table.

“Shit,” Ganauche said.

  


\---

  


Across the piazza, Tsuna and Yamamoto had also immediately leaped to their feet following the commotion. 

“What’s happening?” Tsuna asked Reborn urgently, but just then, a shriek emanated from one of the nearby tables. Tsuna spun around to see a man slumped over.

At first glance, it might almost have looked as though he had simply had too much to drink and had passed out. The dripping red liquid could have simply been some spilled wine.

Except that a woman wearing a leather jacket was currently standing over him, holding a sword dripping with the same shade of red.

Tsuna suddenly felt cold.

The air was suddenly filled with the sounds of chairs being scraped back and more screams, as the surrounding patrons panicked and started to flee. In contrast to this chaotic image, the woman stood utterly calm and still; and Tsuna now noticed that one of the men standing nearby was also doing the same.

In roughly fifteen seconds the entire piazza had almost cleared out, leaving only Tsuna, Yamamoto, Reborn, and the two strangers. Reborn had drawn his handgun.

“I’m surprised to see you again so soon, Anthony Franco,” he said.

Tsuna had a brief moment of confusion, during which he tried to recall just why that name sounded so familiar. Then, in a burst of movement so quick that Tsuna couldn’t even see, Yamamoto activated his Vongola Gear necklace and drew his sword.

And then Tsuna remembered.

An instant later, he had activated his own Vongola Gear, and as the Dying Will flame kindled to life on his forehead, he immediately felt his thoughts become clearer.

“You’re the one who attacked Gokudera-kun,” he said.

The man didn’t move an inch. “Oh, you heard about that,” he said.

Tsuna felt a bright flash of anger, and just like that, before any of the others could do or say anything to stop him, he had launched himself at the man, all thoughts of negotiation and peaceful resolution suddenly forgotten.

But just before he could reach him, he was suddenly forced to swerve and dodge, as the woman with the sword launched a sudden attack that nearly took his head off. He veered away at the last second, landing in a crouching position. Then she was coming at him again.

He was taken aback by the speed and accuracy of her movement, and before he could move to counter this time, he was interrupted by a burst of blue flame.

“Tsuna!”

A moment later, Tsuna’s thoughts caught up with him and he recognized the shape of the flames as that of one of Yamamoto’s Shigure Souen Ryu defensive forms— _Surging Rain_.

Yamamoto himself now stood crouched in front of him. “I’ll handle this,” he said. “You get the other one.”

Tsuna immediately shifted his focus back to the other man—Anthony Franco. “Got it.”

“I get the big fish, huh?” Anthony said. “But you’ll have to catch me first, Vongola.”

And an instant later, he was gone.

No, not gone, Tsuna realized, snapping himself out of his startled confusion. He was escaping down the street up ahead. But—he comprehended with a sudden jolt—he was _fast_. Almost inhumanly so. Without hesitation, Tsuna fired up his X-Burner flames and shot after him. “Be careful, Yamamoto!” he shouted as he rocketed off.

“Don’t worry about him,” said a voice in his ear, just as he felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulder. “Focus on your own target, No-Good Tsuna.”

Tsuna just nodded, and together they gave pursuit.

  


\---

  


Yamamoto watched from the corner of his eye as Tsuna and Reborn vanished out of sight, but kept most of his focus on the woman who now stood calmly before him. She was tall, with long, cascading hair and striking dark eyebrows. She wore a matching leather jacket and shorts, with long boots and sunglasses. It was an aggressive, almost intimidatingly sophisticated look; although Yamamoto didn’t know much about style, to him her appearance reminded him of a high-fashion model. 

“So,” she said as he slowly rose to his feet, “you’re Yamamoto Takeshi. The boy who defeated the second Sword Emperor.”

“Heh,” he said as he took a single step to the side, and then another, keeping his sword at guard. She mirrored the movement, matching his timing and pace, so that the two of them were now slowly circling each other. “I guess I am. But it feels a little weird, you knowing my name but me not knowing yours.”

“Bella Roma,” she answered after a slight pause.

He grinned, though he didn’t drop his guard for even a moment. “Nice to meet you, Bella. I have to admit, this is my first time fighting… uh.” He hesitated.

“A woman,” she finished for him evenly.

He laughed awkwardly. “…Yeah. Sorry. To be honest… I’m not quite sure that I can do it.”

“It has no bearing on me either way,” she said with a shrug. “But it will be your funeral.”

“Ha ha, maybe,” he admitted as he mentally assessed his options.

He could tell from her posture alone that Bella was dangerous. Definitely not someone to underestimate. Chivalry or not, if he was stupid enough to take this fight anything less than one hundred percent seriously, she would probably make short work of him.

Despite that, he honestly wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to go all out with an attack, which was definitely a problem. Best, then, to try and finish this quickly. Then he could rejoin Tsuna and the others.

Having settled on his course of action, he shifted his stance and angled his blade down to the right.

Bella did not move to respond, but simply stood there in place, waiting.

Steeling his resolve, Yamamoto charged.

  


\---

  


Tsuna didn’t understand how Anthony could be so fast without using Dying Will flames or any other obvious method of propulsion. He had faced off against speeds of this caliber only once before, and that had been against the Vindice, who had utilized the flame of the Night in order to create portals that allowed them to warp at near-light speed. 

Yet as far as Tsuna could tell, Anthony was doing this without the use of any flame, which was a feat that Tsuna had seen performed by only one other person. That man was currently seated in his infant form on Tsuna’s right shoulder.

Though if Reborn could do it, Tsuna supposed that meant it was indeed possible. It made him wonder, though, just how strong the man he was pursuing actually was.

But he couldn’t worry about that now. First he had to catch him. The route Anthony was taking had quickly led them away from the piazza and down a winding route of narrow pathways, away from the busier main streets. Although Tsuna was primarily focused on just keeping up, he was glad that the other man seemed to be leading them away from the more crowded part of the city. He followed as they diverted over a wall, into another alley, up a set of stone steps, and then down yet another alley.

Tsuna was slowly but surely starting to get his bearings now, and as Anthony veered off down another path up ahead, he had a sudden burst of intuition. Kicking his X-Burner flames into high gear, he shot off down a different path, intending to try and cut the other man off.

A few seconds later, he emerged onto a street and glanced about—but Anthony was nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, his instincts screamed that he was somewhere close by.

Cautiously, he took another look around. He was standing across from another square now, this one a much wider and more open space than the piazza they had recently vacated. The sun had just cleared the horizon, and the sky was now a bright purple-gold expanse, with darkness looming just beyond. Directly in front of him loomed a massive, castle-like structure with gothic arches, several towers, and a great dome that protruded from the main body of the building.

And up on that roof, directly in front of that dome, a wiry figure stood silhouetted in the receding light.

Tsuna ignited his flames again, launching himself over the courtyard and onto the opposite end of the long, angled rooftop, directly across from Anthony Franco.

“That’s better. Just you and me, now,” said the other man, shoulders hunched nonchalantly and his hands resting casually in his pockets.

That was when Tsuna realized with a start that Reborn was no longer there.

  


\---

  


“Reborn!” Although the exclamation came in the deeper, more mature tones of Tsuna’s Dying Will mode, Reborn could still pick up on the apprehension in his student’s voice. 

“Something came up,” Reborn replied over the headset. “You’ll have to handle Franco on your own for now.”

“What happened?” Tsuna questioned. “Are you all right?”

Reborn glanced around mildly.

Somewhere off to his left, he heard the telltale clicking sound of a gun being cocked. Then another, this one coming from behind. Then another, and another. Left; right; directly ahead; and all around him, until the surrounding air was reverberating with the sound.

He estimated there were more than a hundred in all.

“It’s a minor inconvenience,” he said in response to Tsuna.

Then, without missing a beat, he cocked his own gun in response.

Time to get to work.

  


\---

  


Slowly Tsuna moved his hand back down from his earpiece and glared at the man standing across from him. “What did you do?” he demanded. 

“No need for that face,” Anthony replied. “Just brought in some backup. I’m sure it’s nothing your tutor can’t handle. If anything, I’m the one who should be worrying right about now.”

“You’re right about that,” Tsuna said, and charged.

Anthony dodged with frustrating ease, leaping aside and landing on one of the nearby turrets. “In fact, given his reputation, we probably don’t even have more than a few minutes.”

He was too fast, Tsuna realized. Too fast for him to be able to target him like this.

He needed Reborn. With a Dying Will Bullet, he’d be able to enter Ultimate Dying Will mode, and then he’d be able to turn the tides here. But as it was, he wasn’t even going to be able to land a hit on Franco, not at the rate that things were going.

Something about it was odd, though. By now, Anthony should have realized that with his speed, he currently held the advantage. So why, then, was he not actually fighting back? He’d been on the defensive this entire time, Tsuna realized, simply evading Tsuna’s attacks, and leading him away from…

Shit.

“Gokudera-kun!” he said urgently into the headset. “Are you there?”

There was no response. “Ganauche!” he tried next. Same thing. Then: “Yamamoto, are you still there?”

“I—yeah,” came the response after a second or two. “Somehow.”

Something felt a bit off about that reply, but there was no time to get into it right now. “Do you have eyes on Gokudera-kun? Is he still in the bar?”

“I…” Yamamoto’s voice was uncertain. “I don’t know.”

“Damn it!” He focused his attention back on Franco.

He needed to find a way to finish this now, somehow—and fast.

  


\---

  


Night was fast approaching as Gokudera made his way through the rambling alleys of Palermo, moving as quickly as possible. He had no real goal yet, other than to put as much distance as he could between him and the others. 

He wasn’t so stupid as to think it had only been luck that had caused the distraction allowing him to get away from Ganauche. 

By now, word would have reached Luca that Gokudera was back in Italy. If he really did want him dead, he wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than this. Gokudera had been expecting him to make his move soon. That it had happened before the others had finally called his bluff on his made-up “contact” was just a fortunate coincidence.

Of course, this also meant that his life was now in very real danger. He had no plan to handle it, and considering Luca’s abilities, he was very possibly about to walk into a situation from which there would be no walking out of.

But right now, that suited Gokudera just fine. All he cared about was that the rest of the Vongola be kept out of it.

_(As a Vongola Guardian, you have a responsibility to more than just your Boss. It’s your duty to keep this whole family safe.)_

That was what Ganauche had said. And he had been right.

Luca wasn’t after the Vongola. He wasn’t after Tsuna, or Yamamoto. It was only Gokudera. Just him.

He knew what Luca was capable of. And he knew that when push came to shove, the others would not hesitate to defend him. Neither party would back down, and Gokudera feared that when that they finally collided, one of the two would not survive that encounter.

He couldn’t risk that happening to Tsuna. He _would not_ risk it. Never, ever, no matter what.

So he kept running, as darkness fell over the Sicilian capital.

  


\---

  


_The instant he enters the luxuriously appointed bedroom, Gokudera has the distinct, unsettled feeling that something is off._

_At first, he tells himself it’s just nerves. Of course he’s nervous. Tsuna and the others have come all the way here to the Vongola HQ in Italy just for his sake, and the person they’ve come to deal with is none other than Gokudera’s psychotic brother. Hell, “nervous” isn’t a strong enough term for that._

_That’s when he notices that the windowed door leading out to the garden terrace is slightly ajar._

_After a moment of hesitation, he steps out onto the stone balcony, his left hand hovering carefully over his Vongola Gear, ready to launch the Sistema C.A.I. at a moment’s notice._

_He waits, on high alert, as he sees a figure approach. And then finally suppresses a quick sigh of relief as he recognizes the other person on the balcony. It’s one of the Ninth’s Guardians… his Lightning Guardian. Ganauche III._

_He lets himself relax, but is careful not to completely drop his guard. They may be part of the same family, technically, but the past forty-eight hours have set him on edge, and just now he isn’t exactly in a mood to be particularly trusting of anyone. Let alone a guy who decided it would be fun to just sneak into someone else’s room for kicks._

_“What do you want?” he says, trying to be at least grudgingly polite, without much success (though he feels he can hardly be blamed for that)._

_“Just to say hi,” Ganauche replies. “I know we’ve been formally introduced before, but that was under pretty different—and highly unusual—circumstances.”_

_“The Inheritance Ceremony.” Gokudera remembers perfectly well._

_“That was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” says Ganauche. “I’ll admit, in the end you kids didn’t do too badly, though.”_

_“Of course not,” Gokudera replies. Then he adds, “But you didn’t come just to talk to me about that.” Because it’s obvious that Ganauche isn’t just stopping by to reminisce about the botched ceremony from four months ago, and Gokudera doesn’t feel like standing around all day waiting for him to reveal his true intentions._

_“Straight to the point,” Ganauche says, and suddenly his whole demeanor changes. It’s not unfriendly, exactly, but it’s like he’s sobered up, become more serious. It reminds Gokudera oddly of Yamamoto. “No, I came here because I wanted to ask you a question.”_

_“What is it?” Gokudera asks._

_“Why did you decide to join the Vongola?”_

_For a split second Gokudera is taken by surprise, but it’s an easy question for him to answer. “Because of the Tenth.”_

_“Tsunayoshi-kun,” Ganauche says, nodding. “What was it specifically, about him?”_

_“…He saved my life,” Gokudera says after a moment of debating whether to be honest._

_“So that’s why you’re loyal to him?”_

_“Yes.” That should be obvious, but more to the point, Gokudera doesn’t see how any of this is relevant._

_“I see,” Ganauche says. “Then let me ask you a follow-up question: Is Tsunayoshi-kun the only reason you’re loyal to the Vongola?”_

_This time Gokudera really is caught by surprise. “W…what?” he stammers._

_“I’m going to be blunt,” Ganauche says suddenly, moving in closer, and Gokudera has to stop himself from automatically taking a step back. “I know your background, Gokudera Hayato. I know you ran away from home when you were only eight. I know you went from family to family for the next several years, but no one was willing to take you in.”_

_Gokudera clenches a fist tightly as Ganauche continues. “So you tried your best to live with it, like anyone would in that situation. Acted like you didn’t care. Went around picking fights with everyone you met. Made a name for yourself, eventually, the Smoking Bomb, but still no one ever actually believed in you, or was willing to stick their necks out for you. Not till you were finally recruited by the Vongola.”_

_Gokudera can feel his nails digging into his palm but doesn’t take much notice. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out; and anyway, Ganauche is still going on._

_“And I know from personal experience,” the other man says. “When you live a life like that, and then all of a sudden someone comes along and plucks you up out of it, that person becomes your savior. And you’re willing to do absolutely anything for them, just as I’m sure that you’re willing to do anything for Tsunayoshi-kun._

_“But as a Vongola Guardian, you have a responsibility to more than just your Boss. It’s your duty to keep this whole family safe. Just like it’s my duty, as the Ninth’s Guardian. I need to make sure that the decisions we make are the ones in the best interests of the family._

_“So I’ll ask you again,” Ganauche concludes. “Is your loyalty only to Tsunayoshi-kun, or is it to the Vongola?”_

_He finally goes silent, then, and for a moment it’s utterly quiet on the balcony except for the sound of birds chirping in the gardens below._

_“It’s true that the Ten… Neo Vongola Primo… is the one that saved me,” Gokudera admits at last. “Everything that I am today… everything_ good _,” he pauses to clarify, “is because of him. And it’s true that I would do anything for him, like you said._

_“…But the Ninth is the one who first invited me into the family. And Reborn-san invited me to Japan. And the Boss’s father… he gave me my ring.” He paused. “Well—it’s not actually a ring anymore, but. The point is, he chose me, to be a Guardian. And I know how important that is.”_

_He hesitates, then ends with: “And I won’t let them down.”_

_Ganauche regards him thoughtfully for another long moment._

_“Good,” he finally says. “I’ll hold you to that.”_

_And with that, he steps past Gokudera back into the room, and then out the door into the hall, leaving Gokudera alone with his thoughts._

  


\---

  


Gokudera couldn’t help but feel that Ganauche—and possibly Reborn too—had seen right through his attempt to sneak off from the rest and take care of things himself, after that. But he had managed it anyway in the end. Now he just had to finish this before anyone else got hurt, and before he himself lost his nerve. 

Because he was afraid. He could admit it, if only to himself. Probably more than he was actually allowing himself to process. He just kept telling himself that as bad as this was, it could still get worse. And that was why he had to act. To stop ‘worse’ from ever happening.

As these thoughts raced through his head, he rounded another corner. By this point he had passed through the nicer parts of town and had made his way into one of the seedier areas. Graffiti of various origins dotted the walls of these alleys; bits of scattered trash lined the streets here and there, and many of the buildings had a darker, more rundown look to them, which was only helped along by the fact that full dark had finally set in. Streetlights now illuminated the winding angles of the paths up ahead, giving them a more sinister feel, and for a moment, Gokudera was vividly reminded of the attempted assassination only two nights ago.

And just like on that night, a lurking figure was now stepping out toward him from the shadows.

His breath suddenly caught tight in his chest.

“Hello, Hayato,” Luca said.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. “Trucco Inganno” literally translates to “trick hoax” because I couldn’t resist, but we’ll pretend the words mean something different in the story-verse. But anyways, Gokudera is a duplicitous, self-sacrificing little shit.
>   2. Speaking of fun facts that no one actually asked for: all of the other OC names (aside from Luca’s) are taken from the names of local pizza joints! Because if Amano can name characters after desserts and sports cars, then I can muck around with my own stupid naming conventions, damn it.
>   3. Not sure how well this came across in the chapter, but as far that flashback conversation goes, just to be clear, Ganauche was just doing his own little check to make sure Gokudera really was loyal. Gokudera is the one who interpreted it in entirely the wrong way and decided he should “protect” the family by handling this shit on his own. (If it’s not obvious yet, Gokudera isn’t exactly handling this whole situation with a particularly clear head.)
>   4. Lastly, I just want to acknowledge that Yamamoto is kind of an idiot here (during the fight scene, I mean), but him being who he is (read: a 14-year-old boy in shounen), I didn’t think I could keep it IC any other way. He’ll learn soon enough.
> 



	6. Target 05 - Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuna gets frustrated. Yamamoto experiences some déjà vu. The brothers reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here comes the flashback and the confrontation I’ve been building up to for three weeks, which in hindsight was a very stressful thing to do! But at least after this I can stop worrying about whether it’s too angsty, or not angsty enough, or OOC, or what have you. I’m committed to it now!
> 
> …sob.
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** – _These contain **spoilers** , so skip ahead if you want to avoid._
> 
>   1. Reiterating my earlier tw for psychological abuse (though there’s nothing too specific as of yet).
>   2. Warning for asphyxiation/strangling.
> 


  


_“It’s been five years since it happened.”_

_“Since what happened?”_

_“Since young Master Hayato’s mother died.”_

_Hayato freezes._

_He is eight years old and standing right outside the castle kitchens. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, had just been running down the hallway when he’d accidentally overheard some of the servants talking._

_“What?” a woman with short hair is saying. “Master Hayato wasn’t Madam’s child, then?”_

_“What are you talking about?” another woman replies. “He’s the child the Master had with that young pianist.”_

_Young pianist. His mother was a young pianist. His mother was not his father’s wife._

_His mother is… dead._

_He doesn’t know how to respond. But his feet move of their own accord. He turns and sprints down the hall, shoving past another servant on his way._

_A young pianist. He remembers, suddenly—he knows who it is._

_He’d only ever seen her a few times, back when he was still very young. But he remembers she was beautiful. And kind… always so kind.  
And then one day, all of a sudden, she’d just stopped visiting._

_His mother. That had been his mother._

_He’s stopped running, now. He crouches over in the hall, his hands on his knees, feeling sick all of a sudden. But it’s nothing like when he eats Bianchi’s cookies. This is… different. This is a horrible sinking feeling, like the ground has suddenly dropped out from underneath him. Because in a way, it has, hasn’t it? This whole time, everything he’s thought about his life has all been a lie._

_He scrunches his eyes shut, fighting back tears._

_This is how Luca finds him, a few minutes later._

_“There, there, Hayato,” he says, and Hayato looks up in shock to see him standing there. Watching him._

_“It’s all right,” Luca says. “I understand.” And it’s fake, his tone is so fake, but—wait. What is it? What is it that he understands?_

_“It’s cruel, isn’t it? Servants gossiping so thoughtlessly like that.”_

_And Hayato’s stomach tightens._

_He heard. Luca heard._

_He_ knows _._

_“And they do it so casually, too,” Luca continues. “It’s just chit-chat to them, isn’t it? Just mindless small talk.” He fixes Hayato with an odd look. “But to you and me, it’s a lot more serious than that. For them, it’s just gossip… but for us, it’s life and death.”_

_He pauses, almost philosophically, but there’s something sinister about it. “That’s wrong, don’t you think? It isn’t fair.”_

_Hayato stares at him, not understanding what he’s talking about._

_Then, Luca’s expression hardens._

_“It ought to be life or death for them too. Don’t you agree?”_

_And then, before Hayato can comprehend what’s happening, all of a sudden Luca has grabbed him by the shoulder and is forcibly dragging him back down the way he came. Back to the kitchen._

_Suddenly Hayato is seized with a sudden, urgent feeling of foreboding. It’s like an overpowering signal from his mind telling his body that he needs to get away,_ now _. Panicked, he grabs Luca’s hand and desperately tries to pry it off his shoulder._

_But then something strange and terrifying happens: his body abruptly refuses to listen to him._

_And then all of a sudden Luca does let go, but somehow, Hayato is still following him, his feet now moving of their own accord. Not like earlier, when he had panicked and fled from the kitchen. This time, he is actively fighting it, but it’s no use. He is a prisoner in his own body; he can still see and feel everything that is happening, but it’s like he’s not the one in control._

_And then, as they approach the kitchen, all of a sudden a horrible, piercing shriek rings through the air, followed by a crashing sound. Luca frowns and looks around, but no one else comes rushing over; it appears that they are the only two within earshot._

_And just as Hayato is wondering what had happened to the group of servants that had been here only moments earlier, they reach the entrance to the kitchen, and he sees._

_The smooth white tile is covered in red. The walls and countertops as well. Even the potted plant that stands near the doorway._

_And, lying in a heap on the floor—the servants._

_All dead._

_Two of them have been slashed practically to ribbons. The third, the one with the short hair, lies dead as well, but only her throat has been cut. Her lifeless hand is still gripping the hilt of a bloodied kitchen knife._

_And as Hayato takes in all of this in horror, he suddenly realizes that there is another person in the room, someone else who’s still alive, besides for him and Luca. It’s the woman he brushed past in the hallway earlier. She stands frozen in shock, surrounded by broken bits of plates. Dimly, he remembers that she had been holding a stack of dishes when he’d elbowed his way past her earlier. That must have been the crashing sound they’d heard._

_“M-Master Hayato…” she says as she takes note of his presence. Then she sees Luca, and her eyes widen. “It’s you…!”_

_“Me,” Luca responds, evenly._

_The woman’s eyes widen even more, as though she suddenly realizes that she’s committed a faux pas. “T-that is to say… I don’t understand… they… they’re all dead…!”_

_“I know,” Luca says. “I killed them.”_

_She stares at him in fear and disbelief._

_“You… but… why?”_

_“They upset my little brother,” Luca says._

_And even in the shock of the moment, and even at his young age, Hayato is smart enough that a part of him, upon hearing this, immediately begins to put two and two together._

_The servant girl, meanwhile, falls to her knees tearfully. “P… please,” she says, and then she starts to sob. And at this, Luca’s eyes narrow._

_“Stop,” he orders her, and—instantly—she does._

_Luca’s eyes fall on something directly behind the young woman, and a moment later, Hayato realizes. The knife._

_And as he watches in horror, the terrified girl reaches out a trembling hand and takes hold of the weapon—blade first. Then, seemingly disregarding the fact that her own hand is now bleeding, she lifts the edge up to her own throat._

_Hayato has a terrible premonition. “Wait! What are you doing?” he cries out._

_“It’s no use,” Luca says beside him. “She’s no longer in control. There’s no fighting against the Command.”_

_And suddenly everything falls into place in Hayato’s mind, all at once. Luca had called him “little brother.” And now this. This ability… the Consummate Command. It’s the same famed ability that Hayato’s father possesses._

_The same ability_ their _father possesses._

_And even as he comes to this realization, he’s frozen in place by his own fear, and all he can do is watch as the girl, her eyes still wide and pleading as tears run silently down her face, presses the blade against her neck._

_And in one quick, brutal instant, she slits her own throat, right before his eyes._

_Something warm and wet splatters on his front, and somewhere in the background, a dim, quietly processing corner of his mind registers it as blood. He’s barely aware of it. His mind is trying to shut down on him. He never realized it was possible to be scared like this. To such an overpowering degree that it takes over everything else, wrenches all other functions to a halt._

_He can’t move. Can’t scream. He’s sick to his stomach again, and trembling uncontrollably. And all he can think is, he’s next. The woman is dead. They’re all dead, and Luca is just…_

_Luca is just standing there, admiring his handiwork._

_Hayato feels like he can’t breathe._

_“So finally you know,” Luca says quietly. “Finally you understand. You’re no different from me, Hayato. I was Father’s illegitimate son too.”_

_He’s going to kill him. Luca is going to kill him now. He’s going to die._

_“Do you know about the Mafia Ten Commandments, Hayato?” Luca asks suddenly. Hayato stares at him in silent fear, so Luca continues, reciting. “‘Never look at the wives of friends. Wives must be treated with respect. People who can’t be part of Cosa Nostra: anyone with a two-timing relative in the family.’”_

_He looks at Hayato coldly. “Do you get it, Hayato? What our father did is a sin. Your_ existence _is a sin. That’s why they’ve kept it secret all these years.”_

_He leans down to Hayato’s eye level. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? You shouldn’t exist. So now… what will you do?”_

_Hayato stares back. He’s still trembling. Finally, he says in a small voice: “Please… I… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Just… please…”_

_He doesn’t want to die. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He shouldn’t have been playing in the hallway. He wishes the servants hadn’t been talking. He wishes he had never heard them._

_He wonders if that makes it his fault they’re dead._

_Luca is his brother. Luca is his half-brother. So… maybe… just maybe, if he pleads… he’ll let him live._

_But Luca is shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s good enough.” He pauses, rising to a standing position once again, towering over Hayato. And for a terrifying second, Hayato is sure that this is it._

_And then Luca says: “I think you should leave.”_

_Hayato stares at him, breathing fast._

_“You don’t belong in this family,” Luca says. “You’re just like me.”_

_Then his face goes dark. “Only Father never took me in like he did with you,” he says, his words dripping with resentment. “He never lied to everyone, pretending that I was his full-blood son. Just cast me out, and treated me and my mom like dirt. Then he felt sorry about it, years later, after she died, and he brought me back. Into the family, but never into his family. I’m too shameful.”_

_He looks at Hayato with undisguised contempt. “But_ you _, for some reason… you got to be a normal, happy little kid. Don’t you think that’s messed up?”_

_Hayato tries to stammer some kind of reply, but Luca cuts him off with sudden viciousness, and he flinches: “_ Don’t _. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from you.”_

_He leans back over again, brings his face in close, so that they are barely inches apart. Then, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, indicating the dead servants all around them, he asks: “Do you want to die like them?”_

_Hayato feels tears spilling down his face. He shakes his head ‘no.’ “Please…”_

_“I want you to go,” Luca says quietly, intensely. “I want you to run away and never come back. Do you understand?”_

_The look in his eye leaves no room for doubt._

_Fighting back sobs, Hayato nods wordlessly._

_“And if you ever try to contact Father, or anyone from the family, or tell anyone what I did here, I will kill you. Do you understand that?”_

_Hayato nods again._

_“You’re illegitimate, Hayato. Your father killed your mother because you were never supposed to exist. Remember that.”_

_And he does._

_He leaves the castle the next day. His sister almost stops him, begs him to stay, but he doesn’t look back. And he tries his best to make a new life._

_But he remembers. Because every day, someone is there to remind him that what Luca said is true. Nobody wants him. He is shameful. He is unwelcome. He’s no good. He shouldn’t exist._

_He gradually becomes defiant, desperate to prove that they are wrong. And eventually, he meets Tsuna. And from that point on, everything changes._

_And when he thinks about Luca, about his past, he reminds himself that there are people now who will look past it, who care not about his blood or his usefulness, but about him, himself. He reminds himself that to them, he is already worthy._

_And it lifts him up, and he is stronger now, because of them. He’s no longer just a little boy whose place in the world has been upended._

_And he tries to let those feelings fill him; that sense of belonging; of being needed, wanted, at long last._

_And most of the time, it works, and it’s enough._

_But there’s a part of him, always, buried and shoved deep down inside. And cloistered there are all his fears and doubts, all huddled up and hiding. And that part of him is still eight years old, and shivering and stammering and pleading for his life. And no matter what he does, he can’t make it disappear._

_And always, that part of him still remembers._

  


\---

  


“Hello, Hayato.”

Gokudera stared as his brother emerged from the murky gloom of the alley.

His first thought was that even after so many years, his appearance had not changed much. He did look older, certainly, and perhaps a little taller. The last time Gokudera had seen him, Luca had still been a teenager, only a few years older than Gokudera currently was himself. Now that he had reached full adulthood, he had filled out and had a somewhat less lean and wiry look.

He wore a suit and tie; the collar was done up neatly, though his suit jacket hung open. His hair was still the same, long dark bangs falling neatly around hazel eyes. Those eyes, strangely, were not as cold as Gokudera remembered; but then again, his last encounter with Luca had been under uniquely sanguinary circumstances. Not such a surprise, then, that he would appear calmer now.

Nonetheless, Gokudera still felt his own pulse racing, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. This was Luca, and Luca was always dangerous.

Immediately he started formulating a plan, making calculations and taking in the environment around them. Luca, meanwhile, was staring him down in return, looking strangely reflective.

“It’s strange,” he said to Gokudera at last. “The older you get, the less you look like our father.”

At the mention of their father, Gokudera felt a sudden flash of anger. It felt like he’d only just started the process of accepting the fact that maybe, just maybe, his father had not been the coldly calculating murderer he’d thought he was for more than half a decade. That maybe his father really had loved his mother after all, doomed though that relationship might have been.

And he’d just been starting to think that maybe one day there might be a possibility of all of those complicated feelings finally being reconciled. That maybe, someday, he could give the man another chance, as undeserved as it was.

And then Franco had come along with the news of his death, and just like that, all of those little hopes had been snuffed out.

He was gone. There would be no reconciling with him, ever. There would be no anything with him, ever again, because he was dead.

And this man who now stood before him… this man…

“…Did you kill him?” Gokudera asked, because even though he already knew the answer, a part of him still needed to hear it from Luca’s own lips. To hear him admit to it.

“Does that really make you so upset?” was all Luca said in response.

It did. And he hated it. A part of him seethed, and another part was grieving, and still another part was outraged and indignant at the fact that he could let such a thing get to him at all. But yes, it did.

And it wasn’t fair. Because he had _listened_.

“I did what you wanted,” he said. “I ran away. I never contacted anyone. I was alone for _years_ , because of you.” Something was stirring up inside of him, something scared but defiant, and needing to finally escape. “And I finally have my own family now,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with you, so just… just leave me alone.” And he had wanted, had meant for it to come out as assertive, threatening, but instead even to his ears it sounded more like a plea.

The old Luca would have pounced on it immediately. And yet… something about him was different now. It took him by surprise, and left him wary and on guard. The last time he’d seen him, Luca had been cold and bitter, filled with barely-suppressed rage. Now, however, he was simply observing Gokudera quietly.

“Leave you alone,” he repeated. “…I suppose that’s fair. It has been six years since we’ve seen each other, after all. You have no reason to expect things would have changed. But they _have_ changed, Hayato.”

Gokudera felt a storm of emotions slowly starting to brew inside him. Luca had no right to be so calm, so coolly rational, as though the past six years had never happened. As though it was fine for him to come stampeding back into Gokudera’s life again after all this time, after everything he’d put him through, and then to stand there serenely acting as though he’d never done anything wrong.

“Nothing’s fucking changed,” he said fiercely. “You’re still an asshole just trying to make other people’s lives miserable.”

He wanted him to own it. He _wanted_ him to try to scare and intimidate him again, like he’d done so many times in the past. Let him try. Let him see _exactly_ how things had changed. Let him see that he was no longer just a stupid, weak child.

He was still frightened of what Luca could do, yes. But it wasn’t just fear that had been steadily building up in him for all those years. It was anger, too; a deep, powerful, almost choking animosity that surprised him even now with the way it burned and clawed at him, demanding to finally be given a voice.

In his memories from six years ago, a savage, cold-blooded, calculating and manipulative figure lurked, filled with a vindictive furor and a desire to hurt, and entirely lacking any kind of remorse.

That was the Luca he knew. The Luca he knew would have revealed his temper by now. He certainly would _not_ be standing there, quietly, with a look of what almost—almost—seemed like genuine contrition.

This was not the man Gokudera had come prepared to face. And it was confusing, and upsetting in an entirely different way.

“I made yours miserable,” Luca acknowledged. “I know. And I’m sorry. But you and I, we’re the same. Don’t you understand that now?”

“I’m nothing like you,” Gokudera said hotly.

“You are, more than you know,” Luca insisted. His voice grew more urgent. “We’ve been through the same hardships now. The same bullshit. Living in a world that doesn’t want us. How many families did you go to, after you left? Looking for someone who’d give you a chance, who would take you in. And how many of them actually did?”

“The Vongola did,” Gokudera said. His fist, tightly clenched, was shaking slightly.

For the first time since they’d started talking, a look of irritation swept briefly over Luca’s face. “The Vongola. Sawada Tsunayoshi. …Maybe he is different from the rest of them; I don’t know. But I doubt it. He’ll grow up, eventually, and turn his back on anyone lower than him. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“You’re wrong.”

Luca fixed him with an intent look. “Even if he did let you stay… you don’t belong with the Vongola, Hayato. I know you want to be his right hand. But Consigliere is an outsider position. You’ll never have any real power there.”

He was drawing in closer now, and Gokudera took a step back. As he did so, he let his fingers drop down to a pouch attached to his belt.

Very cautiously, taking great care to make sure Luca didn’t notice, he got to work, all the while never moving his gaze away from his brother’s.

“You are the son of a Boss,” Luca was saying, and there was a growing intensity in his eyes as he continued. “You’re not just some follower. They _want_ you to think that’s all you ever could be, because of your birth, but they’re wrong.”

He took another step closer.

And then, to Gokudera’s utter shock, he stopped, and looked at him imploringly.

“Come back to our family. I’ll make you my second-in-command. You’ll be my successor.”

And for a moment all Gokudera could do was stare.

Out of all the things he’d been prepared for, out of all the possibilities he had considered… this one hadn’t even been on the table.

“…What the fuck,” he said.

“Just consider it,” Luca urged.

But there _was_ no considering it; it was out of the question. And now the anger was back—a complete, sputtering outrage at the very notion that Luca, after everything he had done, could ever even _think_ about making such an offer.

“You tried to have me _killed_ a few days ago,” he said incredulously. “And now you expect me to believe you want me to come be a part of your stupid family? After you _murdered our father_ and ran me out?”

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. It was beyond outrageous; it was almost profane.

“Hayato—” Luca began, but Gokudera cut him off. A trembling, jittering fury had taken hold of him.

“Fuck you. I already have a family.”

And with that, he pressed the ignition switch on the rear of his belt, setting off the bomb trap that he had covertly laid out, and an instant later there was a deafening boom as the alley erupted in dust and smoke.

  


\---

  


Yamamoto was currently experiencing a moment of déjà vu.

Only that wasn’t quite the word for it. But it was something similar. Was there, in fact, a word for experiencing something that hadn’t actually happened to you yet, but which you had known someday would happen?

If so, then. Whatever that was—he was that.

Six months ago, he, Tsuna, Gokudera, and the others had traveled to the future to take down Byakuran and the Millefiore family. Yamamoto had never actually met his future self—he was pretty sure that was impossible, and even if it wasn’t, he supposed it was the type of thing that would probably create some sort of universe-ending paradox—but he wasn’t immune to curiosity, and while he was there, he had managed to see a few pictures. And so he knew from those pictures that his future self, the ten-years-older Yamamoto Takeshi, had a scar on the right side of his chin.

And it was a mystery as to how he’d gotten it, of course, and of course no one from the future had actually been willing to tell him. He’d asked Lal Mirch and the ten-years-older Ryohei about it once, to no avail. So he’d been left to speculate on his own.

He maintained that he had gotten it doing something cool and awesome. Gokudera contended that he must have been doing something dumb, “like running into a stop sign or something.” (Tsuna thought they were both nuts for dwelling on such a morbid concept to begin with, and insisted on being left out of it.)

As it turned out, both he and Gokudera had been right, in a way.

To be fair, he hadn’t been completely holding back. _Early Summer Rain_ wasn’t the peak of his arsenal, true, but it was an effective surprise attack, and more importantly, one capable of ending a fight quickly.

And okay, it was also true that he had been using the back of his sword, but he always did. And maybe he had been a little distracted, and focused on ending the fight as quickly as possible, so that he could catch up with Tsuna and the rest.

And maybe he had underestimated Bella just a little bit.

Because he had predicted that she would try to dodge the attack. That was why he’d chosen this particular form. When executed properly, even the most experienced sword fighter was caught off guard, anticipating an upward strike, but not expecting the attacker to suddenly switch out the hand that was holding the sword.

But somehow, she had seen through it in an instant. And not just dodged the blow, but countered, suddenly transferring her _own_ sword to her other hand, grasping the hilt with an underhand reverse grip.

And then, with a single flick of her wrist, she’d executed a strike so fast it had nearly been invisible. So fast, in fact, that it had come within millimeters of taking Yamamoto’s head clean off. It would have done just that, had Yamamoto not been able to synchronize his movements with her own in the nick of time, executing the Shigure Souen Ryu’s fourth defensive form: _May Wind, October Rain_.

As it was, since he’d been foolish enough to enter the fight without activating his full Vongola Gear, his speed had been less than optimal. He’d only been using the one sword, and thus had lacked the propulsion abilities of his activated box weapon. And as a result, just as he’d tilted his head back out of the way, he’d felt the tip of a steel blade nicking upward, grazing his chin.

And just like that, the mystery of how he’d received the infamous scar was a thing of the past.

He could have laughed, had he not been so busy kicking himself.

“Heh,” he said. “Looks like I played that all wrong.”

Bella made a noise in response, sounding both disdainful and—possibly—disappointed.

“I can see your will, Yamamoto Takeshi,” she said. “You lack killing intent.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

“Did you come here to play? Or to fight?”

“Heh. Calling me out, huh?” He grinned. Blood was sluggishly dribbling from the wound on his chin. “Well then, in that case…”

He took a deep breath, allowed the tranquility of the Rain element to flow over him.

And then, with one fierce, concentrated burst of determination:

“ _Cambio Forma._ ”

  


\---

  


Tsuna was getting frustrated.

It was less of a fight, he thought with dissatisfaction, and more of a fruitless chase. He felt like a toy mallet being ineffectively wielded by a child playing a game of Whac-A-Mole.

“Free tip, Vongola,” said Anthony from his latest perch on the side of the dome. “If you want to win this fight, at some point you might actually want to try landing a hit on me.”

Tsuna didn’t respond. The other man was baiting him, but the exasperating part was that no matter how hard how tried, Anthony really was easily able to evade even his ranged attacks. In particular, he had tried at several points to use the gravity manipulation ability of his Oath flame, but Anthony had managed to avoid those hits as well.

With a burst of impulse, he launched himself toward Anthony again, intending to dive around behind him this time, hoping to somehow encircle him in an X-Stream attack so that he would have no room to escape. Once again, however, the other man was too quick for him, speeding out of the way before Tsuna could come about and continue the attack.

Enough of this, Tsuna decided. If his opponent was just going to dodge and not actually engage, there was no point in continuing to go after him. Especially not when he knew the others were in trouble.

Abruptly, he did an about-face and moved to blast off back in the direction they had come from. But just before he could do so, a bullet came flying at him, forcing him to dodge.

As he turned in surprise, he saw Anthony, now holding a smoking pistol in his hand and looking strangely ill at ease.

“Sorry, kid. I can’t let you do that. I only have one job in this whole thing, you see.”

“To keep me occupied,” Tsuna finished for him after a moment’s pause.

“Right. See, I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty damn dangerous.”

Tsuna fixed him with an icy look. “If you want me to leave your people alone, stay away from mine.”

Anthony scratched awkwardly at his neck with his free hand. “Thing is, that’s not actually up to me.”

“…Your Boss, then,” said Tsuna, putting two and two together. “So in that case, all I have to do is find him.”

“Ah—I’d think twice about that if I were you,” Anthony called as he turned to leave again. Tsuna glanced back at him over his shoulder. “You do know about his ability, right?”

“The Consummate Command.”

“Not something you want to mess with,” said Anthony, with surprising candor. “Take it from me.”

“I’m not afraid,” Tsuna replied. “I’ve faced stronger opponents than him before. But I won’t let him hurt my friends.”

“He’s not going to hurt Hayato,” Anthony said.

Tsuna looked at him sharply. All of the earlier flippancy had disappeared from the other man’s face. He looked fully serious, and although Tsuna still didn’t trust him, he didn’t detect any sign of duplicity there either.

“But he _will_ hurt you,” Anthony continued, “if you go after him. And believe it or not, that’s not something either of us wants.”

“Somehow, I can’t picture you being too concerned,” Tsuna said skeptically.

“It’s not you he’s concerned about,” another, familiar voice cut in. “It’s the rest of the DiSanto family.”

Both Tsuna and Anthony’s heads immediately snapped in the direction of the new presence. There, perched on one of the merlons a dozen or so feet away, stood Reborn.

Tsuna’s heart suddenly lifted; Anthony, on the other hand, sucked in a sharp breath.

“Isn’t that right, Franco?” Reborn said.

Slowly, the corner of Anthony’s lip turned up in a decidedly humorless smile.

“…I literally sent one hundred men after you.”

“It was a refreshing warm-up,” Reborn replied.

Anthony glanced down, shaking his head. “They all dead?” he said quietly.

“Not quite,” Reborn said. “Maybe wishing they were right about now, though.”

Anthony directed a bewildered expression toward Reborn for a moment, before slowly setting back into another smile. He had a look that Tsuna recognized. It was the look of someone knowingly about to go in over their head, but prepared to do so anyway.

“…Well, this sucks,” he said.

“You can always surrender,” Reborn suggested.

“Probably should, huh? Ah, well.”

Tsuna and Reborn exchanged glances. Reborn nodded, and held up his gun.

Tsuna prepared to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  So originally I had intended to wrap up all three fight scenes in one chapter. But then said chapter ended up being close to ten thousand words, so! I ended up having to split it.
> 
> Apologies for the abrupt cliffhanger. Also, we are pretty close to the halfway point of the fic.


	7. Target 06 - Eye for an Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuna and Reborn team up against Franco. Yamamoto makes a mistake. So does Gokudera--with horrific consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** – _These contain **spoilers** , so skip ahead if you want to avoid._
> 
>   1. Psychological abuse.
>   2. Not sure how to summarize this one, but if the idea of not being in control of yourself at all and being manhandled while totally at someone else’s mercy is triggering to you, then yeah. This’ll do that.
>   3. More graphic violence. One event in particular which, while not fully written out and described in exact detail, is still very much implied and pretty damn gruesome.
> 


  
Even before the smoke had cleared, Gokudera knew he was in trouble.

He’d miscalculated. Luca’s offer for him to “rejoin” the family had thrown him off, and in the heat of the moment, he had jumped the gun and set off the bombs too soon.

He couldn’t deny, either, that his battle-readiness was thrown off simply by being face-to-face with his brother again after all this time. He knew he didn’t always have the best handle on his emotions to begin with, and a situation like this just kicked everything off into overdrive.

All of which meant that Luca was still alive. Bleeding, but alive, and looking thoroughly pissed off now that the dust was settling.

“…Shit—” Immediately, Gokudera went for more bombs, knowing that any chance he had of winning this now would be determined within the next few seconds.

But before he could launch a second wave, he suddenly felt his whole body freeze up.

“That’s enough now,” Luca said.

And _now_ it sounded like the old Luca. That terrifying, unpredictable simmering rage was back, and Gokudera felt a shiver of fear roll over him. He instantly willed those feelings back down; he couldn’t afford to give into that right now.

“So that’s really how you want it,” Luca said, and in spite of everything there seemed to be genuine hurt infecting his tone. “You’d side with them, over your own flesh and blood.”

In spite of the creeping panic he was holding at bay, Gokudera’s temper flared once again. “I don’t give a shit if you’re my brother or not!” he spat. Luca may have had full power over him now, but in spite of that, he didn’t intend to go down without a fight. “So don’t fucking act like you’re on _my_ side—”

“ _I’m the only one on your side_!” Luca cut him off forcefully, and Gokudera stopped short.

For a moment—just a moment—he thought he had felt Luca’s control weaken.

But it was just for a second… and now, Luca was positively fuming. “ _None of them_ understand what it’s like. To always be second class, never good enough.” The furor in his voice was increasing with every word. “Treated like dirt, like you’re worthless, and made to feel like _it’s your own fault_. To have your _own parent_ cast you aside like something tainted. Like you humiliate them just by _existing_.” And now his tone was slowly becoming more hollow-sounding, almost desperate.

Finally his eyes met Hayato’s. “But _I_ understand that,” he said. “ _You_ understand it. In that way, we _are_ brothers, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He finally fell silent, then, just looking at him. Gokudera stared back, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. The words hit so close to home that for a moment, he was left stunned by the raw, biting sting of the memories they dredged up.

He did know. He knew exactly how that felt.

And truth be told, it shocked him a little that he could feel those same all-too-familiar emotions emanating from this person that he hated. Up until this point, it had never once occurred to him that his brother, the man who’d tormented him all those years ago, could actually share that same brutally clear insight into those feelings.

But the thing was, Luca seemed to be conveniently overlooking exactly why they shared that common ground to begin with.

“…Yeah, I understand,” he finally managed to reply. “You made sure of that.”

“Hayato…”

Angrily, Gokudera cut him off, because—no. No, he wasn’t just going to suddenly feel sorry for him. It _was_ true. He understood all too well _exactly_ what Luca was talking about. And it was because Luca himself had seen to it.

And Gokudera didn’t care if it was today, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now—no amount of time or pleading looks or sympathetic tones could ever undo what had happened between them, or make up for all the shit that Luca had put him through.

“I’m not joining you,” he said with as much determination as he could muster. And if there was a slight tremor in his voice, well, so be it. “I’m _never_ joining you. So get it through your head.”

And since Luca still had control over his body, and he couldn’t physically look away, he did his best to stubbornly avert his gaze as much as he could. Because he didn’t care if Luca looked hurt. He _deserved_ to be hurt. And Hayato wasn’t here to spare his feelings.

_Just let it sink in_ , he pleaded silently, to whatever powers might possibly be out there listening. _Please_. Let him understand; let him just give up and back off and _leave him alone_.

Let him really have changed. Let him be sorry and just leave.

For another briefest of instants, he felt Luca’s grip slacken again. And just for a moment, he dared to hope.

But then it passed, and Luca looked back up at him, and Gokudera saw with a pang of apprehension that his expression had steeled over.

“Fine,” Luca said. “I thought that after all this time, it might be different. But I guess you still haven’t learned the reality of this world after all.”

And Gokudera felt indignation beginning to rise up in him, because _it wasn’t fair_. No matter what he did, Luca seemed to be so fixated on his own twisted interpretation of their relationship, of this fucking _bond_ that he had invented, that he couldn’t be deterred. He wanted to scream at him: _You’re the asshole who doesn’t get it!_

But before he could, before he could say anything, Luca fixed him with an icy look.

“If you’re so determined to hide yourself behind your so-called new family…”

A chill suddenly ran down Gokudera’s spine.

“…then I’ll just have to destroy them.”

And Gokudera felt an all-too-familiar dread settle itself in the pit of his stomach.

But before the sense of horror could fully sink in, just as Luca was opening his mouth to speak again, something happened that neither of them was expecting.

All of a sudden, without any kind of warning, a second explosion rippled outward through the air around them, accompanied by a strange flash of green light.

Luca stumbled; Gokudera, who still had no control over his own movements, was unable to keep his balance and toppled over entirely, landing directly on his face.

For a moment he lay there, blinking, dazed, and tasting blood in his mouth. Then suddenly, Luca was grabbing him by his collar and pulling him back to his feet. His face was livid.

“I _swear_ , if you try any more games with those bombs of yours—”

“Wasn’t him that time,” another voice spoke up from the shadows.

Luca’s head whipped around.

There, cool and composed and looking every inch the famed Ninth Lightning Guardian of the Vongola, was Ganauche III. In his right hand he held a massive, futuristic-looking pistol with a thick barrel. The muzzle of the gun was enveloped in electric green Lightning flames, sparking fitfully all across the tip of the weapon.

“So,” Ganauche said. “You want to destroy the Vongola, huh?”  
  


\---

This time, he wouldn’t underestimate her.

As the light of his activated Vongola Gear surrounded him, and his two blades took form, Yamamoto plotted his next strike. This time he couldn’t go with something so easy to counter. If she had been able to see through his _Early Summer Rain_ attack, he had to make sure his next assault was even less predictable.

There was only one attack that immediately came to mind. The move that had defeated even Squalo, the man who had previously faced the Shigure Souen Ryu and come out on top.

Bella made no move to stop him; just stood there, seemingly waiting for his next move. Well, he didn’t want to disappoint.

Raising both swords to either side of his head, he cut down in a X-motion, creating a tide of Rain flames that surged all around. “Shigure Souen Ryu: Ninth Form.”

And as the flames surrounded the both of them, he took off.

As expected, she moved aside at the very last second to dodge as he vaulted into the air, arms crossed with both hilts raised above his head. But already he could tell that her movement had been slowed by the tranquility element of his flames.

And of course, he had his trump card still.

As the crest of Rain flames in front of her collapsed, and with it, the reflected image of his leaping form, he closed in from behind. “ _Mirror Rain_!”

It was his signature move, perfectly executed, with no openings to take advantage of. He was sure of that. The only people who’d ever seen this form in action were the ones who had been present during his battle against Squalo for the Vongola Ring. For anyone that hadn’t been there, and thus did not know the secret, it should have been impossible to counter.

And yet that was exactly what happened.

Somehow, she moved as if she knew all along where his true position was, despite the fact that as far as he could tell, he’d done nothing to give it away. With a single graceful swerve to the side, she brought her arm up over her head, still holding the sword in the reverse grip, so that the blade was lined up along the length of her arm. She timed it perfectly, so that his blow simply glanced right off. 

Then, in one fluid motion, she twisted her wrist so that her blade rotated a single time over her head in a helicopter fashion, as she released the hilt and then caught it again a split second later. Having done so, she arced her arm back down and the blade followed, cutting in a perfect diagonal.

Yamamoto veered to the side, but nonetheless the counterattack took him off balance, and for an instant he was left open. For a moment it seemed she fully intended to take advantage of this, and he winced as he brought his right-hand blade up defensively, fully aware that it was too slow and that he was about to take a hit.

But at the last second, she froze, giving him enough time to complete the blocking motion and then scuttle back out of the way. Watching her with a frown, he wondered what had just happened. She’d had the perfect opening, just now, and yet it was like she’d been distracted right at the crucial moment.

In fact, she seemed distracted still. He realized belatedly that this was the time for him to attack again, while her attention for whatever reason had been drawn off elsewhere.

But… maybe it was foolish of him, but he didn’t want to win like that.

Finally she seemed to refocus her attention back to him. “Time’s up,” she said. “I have other matters to attend to.”

“…Ha.” So did he, if it came to that. “In that case, let’s finish it with the next blow. But before that, I have to admit I’m curious… how did you see through my last attack?”

She raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. “I didn’t ‘see’ through anything. Your intention was clear from the start.”

He looked back at her puzzled. “…Sorry, I don’t quite get it, I guess. My ‘intention’?”

“As I told you before, I can see your will.”

And before he could ask her again what that meant, she reached up with her free hand, and removed the pair of sunglasses she had been wearing.

And Yamamoto blinked in surprise. The eyes that peered back across from him were not, in fact, ‘peering’ at all. They were a clouded, milky, pearly gray.

She was blind.

And although by all rights Yamamoto should have logically had even more questions, oddly enough instead, everything started to fall into place. He had seen enough samurai movies to know how this sort of thing worked, after all.

“I get it,” he said with a grin. “You’re like a Jedi, huh?”

And maybe that wasn’t an exact comparison, judging by the look on her face, but he knew it was close enough.

So no matter what he did, there was a good chance she would be able to see it coming. No wonder he hadn’t been able to get in a hit. Then in that case, the only option was to use a move that was impossible to dodge no matter what.

Shifting his weight, he gripped the hilts of his swords and began charging up his flames, readying his double-bladed _Kirisame_ attack.

He had counted on her to wait for him to make the first move, as she had both of the previous times he’d attacked. But this time that was not the case.

A prickle of instinct alerted him to the fact that she had also shifted into a different stance. And for the first time in their battle, he saw to his surprise that she was also charging up a flame attack. Only in her case, her sword was now engulfed in the telltale flickering yellow shimmer that was characteristic of Sun flames.

Gritting his teeth, Yamamoto prepared to evade whatever kind of attack she was about to unleash. He anticipated that speed would play a major factor, given her fighting style up to this point. He kept his eyes on her stance, and on the sword in her hand, ready to react the instant she started to move.

And it was that action—keeping his eyes focused on her sword—that proved to be his undoing.

“ _Elemento Sereno: Luce del Paradiso_.”

All of a sudden her blade lit up with a pure white glow. And then suddenly, _everything_ lit up. The ground; the sky; the entirety of the space around them.

Instinctively, Yamamoto screwed his eyes shut—but too late. The intensity of the flash was dazzling, and wholly overwhelmed the rest of his senses. All he could focus on in that instant was the pain in his eyes, and the complete and total disorientation. He was completely helpless; if she chose to attack him now he would be at her mercy.

But no such attack occurred. Instead, as the intensity of the light slowly faded, and he stood braced for the impact that never came, he gradually came to realize that the fight had already ended, and that Bella Roma had already struck her final blow.

Because even though the glare from her Sun flame attack was finally dissipating, he could no longer make out the outline of the piazza around him. Could no longer see Bella, though he was coming to suspect that she had already fled, leaving him where he stood.

He could not, in fact, even make out the outline of his own sword, as he held it up inches in front of his face.

He could no longer see anything.  
  


\---

Anthony Franco had a sheen of sweat on his forehead that Tsuna found extremely satisfying.

Now that Reborn had joined in the battle, the two of them had Franco on the run. He had barely been able to dodge Tsuna’s latest X-Burner shot, and judging by the way he was breathing hard and wincing on every landing, he would not be able to keep up this pace for much longer. At this rate, Tsuna wouldn’t even need to enter his Ultimate Dying Will mode in order to end things.

Tsuna let loose another blast of flame as Anthony tried to dodge one of Reborn’s shots at the same time. He had to jump in order to avoid the bullet, which left him in mid-air and unable to change direction as Tsuna’s flames shot toward him. With a curse, he arched his body back into a reverse somersault, managing to avoid the bulk of the blast. As a result, however, he tumbled off of the roof into the square below.

Without hesitation, Tsuna dove after him. The other man had managed to avoid serious injury from the fall by ricocheting off one of the nearby trees, landing in a crouching position. Tsuna fired again, and again Anthony moved to evade; this time, however, he wasn’t quite able to avoid the bullet Reborn had also sent flying in his direction. With another curse, he fell back, gripping the side of his arm, his breath coming in short, heavy gasps.

“…Don’t suppose surrendering’s still on the table,” he muttered hoarsely as Tsuna drew in close.

Tsuna glanced at Reborn, then turned back to Anthony. “I’ll consider it, if you tell me where your Boss is right now,” he said.

Anthony bit his lip, glancing at his wound for a moment. Then he sighed and looked back up at Tsuna regretfully, shaking his head.

“Better do it, then,” he said, eyeing Tsuna’s gloves.

Tsuna hesitated. “…I don’t want to kill you,” he admitted.

And it was true. Angry though he still was—after all, this was the man who had tried to kill one of his closest friends only a few days ago—his instincts were telling him Anthony Franco was not a bad person. And after all, they had originally come here intending to try and negotiate. He wasn’t prepared to abandon all hope for that just yet.

“Well, I don’t want to die, either,” Anthony replied. “See, we can agree on things.”

“Where is Luca?” Tsuna pressed once more.

Silence.

“Damn it.” Shaking his head, Tsuna began to charge up his right arm with Sky flames, intending to knock him out with one final punch.

But just as he was charging forward, there was a sudden blur of motion and he felt his attack being deflected aside. He instantly course-corrected with the flames from his other hand, bringing himself about.

But as he did so, he saw that Anthony Franco was no longer alone. Standing protectively in front of him was the woman with the leather jacket from earlier, sword awash with golden Sun flames.

Anthony, still crouched where he had been earlier, was looking up at her in open admiration, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“…I love you,” he said weakly.

“Don’t make a scene,” she replied without so much as a glance back.

Tsuna, meanwhile, felt a sudden jolt of alarm. “Where’s Yamamoto?”

She regarded him coolly with what he could now see were apparently sightless eyes, though at the moment that barely even registered. “He’s still intact… more or less.”

_More or less_ … Tsuna felt the burning resolve of his Dying Will state waver, as the need to make sure his friend was okay sprang to the forefront of his mind. Just like that, his focus was totally shot.

“Reborn,” he said with a frantic glance toward his tutor, and that was all the communication that was needed. Reborn nodded back.

“Go on,” he said. “I have it under control.”

With a grateful nod, Tsuna turned and blasted off back toward the square.  
  


\---

“You realize,” Ganauche continued, “a few of us are going to have a problem with that.”

From his position still being half held up by his collar, the tips of his feet halfway off the ground, Gokudera watched as Ganauche took a few steps closer, the barrel of his weapon now trained directly on Luca’s head.

Luca’s eyes narrowed as he slowly set Hayato back down. “I take it you’re the current Lightning Guardian,” he said.

“Semi-current, but close enough,” Ganauche replied steadily. “No need to bother telling me who you are, though.” He raised one eyebrow in Gokudera’s direction. “Seems like you really had this under control, huh, kid?”

Gokudera felt heat burning the back of his cheeks, but was unable to glance away. “If you were following me this whole time, you could have bothered to show your face sooner,” he said instead.

“Well, I had to wait until he was nice and occupied, didn’t I?” Ganauche said smoothly. He hadn’t lowered his weapon an inch. “Anyway, it all worked out pretty neatly in the end. Like you said, one-person limit, isn’t that right?” He fixed his attention back on Luca. “So you can go ahead and try to take me over, but to do that, you’ll have to let go of the kid first, won’t you? Either way, it looks like you’re outnumbered.”

He cocked the gun suddenly. “So… give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just pull this trigger right now.”

For a moment Luca just regarded him coolly.

And then, to Gokudera’s horror… he smiled.

Ganauche seemed to come to the realization the same time he did; immediately, his index finger curled around the trigger. But too late; by the time he was able to fire, his arm was already swinging up and away from Luca’s position. The bullet discharged harmlessly off into the night sky instead.

Ganauche stared at Luca, his lips parted slightly in shock.

“No…” breathed Gokudera, trying desperately to move but still unable to twitch a single muscle below his neck. It was impossible. “That’s not…”

“You thought I could only control a single person at a time,” Luca said scornfully. “Like Father.” He shook his head in disdain. “That’s just one of the many areas in which he was lacking.

“Now, then,” he said, turning back to Ganauche, “what should we do with this man here?”

Gokudera suddenly felt his blood run cold.

“Maybe we should see what he had planned for me, first,” Luca said, almost as though talking to himself. He quirked an eyebrow, and on cue, Ganauche suddenly aimed his pistol at the ground directly in front of them, and fired.

This time, they could see the full effect of the blast. The bullet was clearly infused with Lightning flames. The moment it punctured the ground, the flames’ trademark hardening and cutting aspects sparked to life, blasting the surrounding ground to pieces like a thunderbolt slamming down from the heavens.

“…Look at that,” Luca said after a pause. He fixed Ganauche with a calm, menacing gaze. “You were going to shoot me with that?”

Gokudera’s blood ran colder still. He locked eyes with Ganauche in desperation. A bead of sweat ran its way slowly down the side of the other man’s forehead, but other than that he gave no sign or indicator of any kind of trepidation on his part.

Gokudera wished he could say the same. His own heartbeat was growing louder and louder in his ears. His breaths, too, were starting to come in short gasps as he fought to stave off the impending panic that was slowly but surely making its presence known.

Luca turned back to Gokudera, and there was a hint of a sadistic gleam in his eye. And then, with almost total indifference, he said, “I think in this case, an eye for an eye is only fair, don’t you think?”

And suddenly, Ganauche twisted his arm, pressing the tip of the barrel directly against his left shoulder.

“ _No_!” Gokudera screamed as his fingers squeezed the trigger. “ _Luca_!”

Then the sound of a thunderclap filled the air as the Lightning flames roared to life.  
  


\---

“Bella Roma,” Reborn said as Tsuna sped off from the battlefield. “I hope you didn’t maim our Rain Guardian too badly.”

“He’ll live,” Bella replied.

“And I assume you’re also un-maimed?” Anthony spoke up from his position crouched directly behind Bella, favoring his wounded arm.

“What do you think?” said Bella, giving him an almost affronted look.

“Just making sure,” Anthony said. “I got shot a little, thanks to him,” he added with a nod in Reborn’s direction. “But nothing too bad. You have great timing, by the way.”

“Ignore this one,” Bella said to Reborn with a mildly exasperated roll of her eyes. “He doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“…I see,” Reborn said. “That clears things up.”

As she raised an eyebrow at him, he clarified: “Some years back I remember hearing about a young up-and-coming hitman named Anthony Franco. Apparently he was quite talented, though some said he lacked the temperament for such a vocation. However, over time, it seems he mysteriously fell off the radar. Although he didn’t seem to have died, I never heard anything else about him.”

He looked at the two of them thoughtfully. “Now, I understand why.”

“…What can I say,” said Anthony after a moment’s pause. “I fell in love.” Beside him, Bella rolled her eyes again, but said nothing.

“From what I’ve seen, you do seem to be more of a lover than a fighter,” Reborn said in agreement. “Which leads me to wonder what led you to work for such a foolhardy man as Luca DiSanto.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Luca has his reasons for doing what he has,” Anthony finally said.

“And yet, sooner or later the path that he’s on is going to get himself as well as the rest of his family killed. Don’t you agree?”

“That won’t happen,” Anthony said, slowly rising to his feet, his good hand still pressed gingerly against the wound on his other arm. “He’s angry; he has every right to be. But he’s not crazy. And he wouldn’t do anything that would put the family in harm’s way.”

“That’s an interesting thing to say, considering that he already has.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed as he seemingly tried to decipher whether this was a threat.

“So, what?” he said at last. “You’re saying we should cut a deal with you and go against our Boss?”

“All I’m saying is that you have more than just your own welfare to think about,” Reborn replied.

Anthony glanced toward Bella uncertainly, but said nothing further.

Satisfied, Reborn slid his gun back into its holster. “At any rate, I think that’s enough for today.”

Bella eyed him skeptically. “You’re just going to let us go?”

“Why not?” Reborn shrugged. “After all, when the time comes, we already know where to find you.”

And with that, he turned to depart, leaving Anthony and Bella to their own devices.  
  


\---

Ganauche screamed, collapsing to his knees as the electric green flames finally faded from sight. The gun slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground beside him as his arm fell limply to his side.

His one remaining arm.

The other… the other one was just… gone.

“He had it coming,” Luca said indifferently as Ganauche’s eyes rolled back and he teetered face-first onto the now-blood-spattered ground. He lay there, completely still.

Gokudera felt sick. He was trembling now, unable to stop it. He wanted to throw up; he wanted to scream; he wanted to run and hide and curl up into a ball. But he couldn’t do any of that. He couldn’t move.

Luca watched him for a moment dispassionately. “…Maybe I should finish the job,” he said, turning back to the unconscious Ganauche.

“S-stop,” Gokudera called after him; only his voice was barely a whisper, and like the rest of him, it was shaking.

Luca ignored him completely as he bent to pick up the discarded gun.

“Don’t,” Gokudera said weakly. “Please.”

Then he froze—or would have done, had he not been frozen in place already—as Luca finally did give pause, turning back to face him with a look that sent still more dread coursing through his veins. He stood trembling as Luca moved in close, until they were mere inches apart.

Hayato’s neck suddenly tilted back of its own accord, as though an invisible hand had gripped him by the back of the head. They stood there like that, eye-to-eye, for a long silent moment, the only sound in the air coming from Hayato’s still-too-fast-and-heavy breathing.

Finally, Luca said, with deadly seriousness: “I’ll give you one day. I may not be powerful enough to take out all of the Vongola… but if you don’t join me, I swear to you that I will personally kill the Vongola Tenth, and I will make you watch.”

Hayato stared back wordlessly.

Then Luca turned and vanished into the dark.

And moments later, the control of his own body having finally been relinquished back to him, Hayato fell to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
>   1. Quick shout out to Aika, who predicted this turn of events almost exactly lol.
>   2. _Elemento Sereno: Luce del Paradiso_ translates to “Sun* Element: Light of Heaven.” *I say “sun”, but the actual Italian word for “sun” is “sole”; it’s just that KHR for some reason has the sun element as “sereno” which actually means “clear/cloudless sky.” So I’m sticking with their thing. But anyways you get the idea. I don’t actually speak Italian, anyway.
>   3. I fucked up so many people’s arms in this chapter. What’s with that.
> 



	8. Target 07 - My Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamamoto recovers. Tsuna worries. Gokudera tries not to let his guilt eat him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes** – I am not a doctor, and there’s a limit to how much research I was willing to do for this fanfic written for a series in which people are regularly stabbed, blown up, have their internal organs removed, and so forth, and yet still come out of it just fine in the end. So I apologize if any of this is so inaccurate as to fuck with anyone’s suspension of disbelief. In the end I figured that probably just comes with the territory.
> 
> **Warnings** – Some description of injuries, but nothing especially graphic or triggering (I think) in this chapter.

  
“ _Ow_ ,” Anthony hissed as Bella applied a particularly painful healing touch to his injured arm.

“I told you not to move,” Bella muttered as she smacked him lightly on the side of the head.

“I didn’t move!”

“You moved just now.”

“Because you just jabbed my fresh bullet wound out of nowhere and then scolded me for moving!”

That earned him another smack. However, when Bella resumed her Sun flame-assisted ministrations a moment later, her touch was noticeably more delicate, something which Anthony didn’t fail to take notice of.

…He was lucky.

He was _very_ lucky. They all had been. The more he thought about it, the more nerve-wracked it made him in hindsight.

Bella had been insistent on returning to the castle as soon as Reborn had gone, but Anthony had refused until they could make sure that Luca was okay. Reborn’s words hadn’t sat well with him, not at all.

_(He wouldn’t do anything that would put the family in harm’s way.)_

_(That’s an interesting thing to say, considering that he already has.)_

Combine that with “ _we already know where to find you_ ”, and the message could not be clearer. The Vongola had been toying with them up until now. It was evident that they were more than capable of wiping out the DiSanto family without a second thought, should they choose to do so.

If a single man had been capable of taking out a hundred of their best, they had no chance of winning this thing. Maybe Luca’s abilities could shift things back in their favor a little, but in the end it would not be enough.

And so he’d immediately tried to get Luca on the comm as soon as Reborn had made his exit. But Luca hadn’t responded. And so Anthony had stood there fearing the worst, and frantically dispatching their remaining men to go and find him, while Bella had urgent medical assistance sent out to aid the men that Reborn had taken down.

It had taken almost twenty minutes for his men to finally report back that they’d found Luca, and were en route back to the headquarters. The news came as a huge relief, only…

Only, Luca had refused to speak with Anthony himself.

Obviously this meant that something had gone down, but what it was, Anthony had not the slightest guess. Luca must have met with Hayato, or he wouldn’t be behaving so strangely now. He could only hope Luca hadn’t done anything to send the family tumbling from this knife’s edge they were so precariously balanced on at present.

He needed to talk to him. But he had no idea how to approach it.

A soft hand on his cheek startled him out of his thoughts, and he reached up to place his hand over Bella’s as he opened his eyes. “Sorry. I spaced out.”

She kept her hand where it was, gently caressing the side of his face as she closed her own eyes. “…You’re afraid.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “What gave that away?”

“You didn’t used to care so much.”

“Not true. I just didn’t always have this much to lose.”

“You knew when we started this that there was no going back.”

“I know, I know. But you have to admit, things are starting to get out of hand now.” He sighed. “In hindsight, ‘no going back’… seems like kind of a dumb policy.”

“Do you think he’ll listen?” Bella said after a moment.

“I don’t know. But this has gone far enough.”

“I know you don’t want to go against him,” she said. “But what he’s doing is careless.”

“Yep. Figured that out right around the time I got shot.”

She smiled and moved to start bandaging up his wound, which now looked a great deal better than it had just minutes ago.

“I’m just lucky that guy decided to leave me alive,” Anthony said thoughtfully. “…Speaking of. It’s a good thing you didn’t kill that Rain kid, either.”

Bella made a noncommittal noise as she continued to wrap his arm.

“…He wasn’t bad,” she said finally. “But he’s young still, and he fights too straightforwardly, relies too much on his surface instincts. I wanted to see what would happen if he were forced to look beyond that.”

“You sound like you’re already preparing for round two,” Anthony said after a beat.

And even though he’d hoped that she would deny it, he wasn’t much surprised when she didn’t.  
  


\---

It was taking everything Tsuna had to keep it together. He was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t actually fallen to pieces yet was because out of the three of them, he was the only one who’d come out of the latest round of battles pretty much unscathed, and right now the last thing Yamamoto and Gokudera needed was a hysterical and distraught sham of a leader on their hands.

He’d found Yamamoto pretty much right where they’d left him, in the piazza just outside their stake-out bistro. Much to his relief, Yamamoto had at first glance appeared relatively unharmed, aside from a few scrapes and cuts (one in particular on his chin which had drudged up more than a few unsettling memories).

However, he’d soon discovered that the worst of the damage wasn’t nearly so obvious as that.

_(Hey, Tsuna. …Don’t freak out, okay?)_

To put it plainly, Yamamoto had been blinded.

This wasn’t something Tsuna himself was entirely unfamiliar with. During their final battle with the Vindice, he had at one point fallen victim to a nearly identical attack. However, in his case, he’d recovered fairly quickly, his vision starting to return in a matter of minutes. For Yamamoto, it didn’t seem that things would be so easy. It had been several hours since the fight, and although he was still as optimistic and cheerful as ever, Yamamoto so far had yet to regain even the smallest measure of his eyesight.

And he wasn’t even the worst off. Although they had managed to avoid any fatalities on their end—which was something of a minor miracle—two of Vongola’s number were nonetheless still in critical condition. The first was one of the soldiers they had posted in disguise outside the restaurant—apparently, he’d been the one that Yamamoto’s opponent, Bella Roma, had stabbed at the outset of their encounter. He had very nearly died, but fortunately the Vongola’s medics had been able to get to him in time. Now that the worst had passed, they were optimistic that he would make a full recovery.

Unfortunately the same could not quite be said for the other victim of the night’s events. That man was currently lying unconscious in a nearby room.

_(“Hello?! Anyone copy?”_

_Tsuna’s hand sprung to his ear. “—Gokudera-kun! What—”_

_“I need medical now! It’s an emergency!”_

_Panic immediately arose in Tsuna as Gokudera rattled off his rough location. “Are you all right?!” he said._

_“…It’s not me, it’s—Ganauche. His arm…” Gokudera’s voice was shaking over the comm. “There’s—he’s bleeding really bad.”_

_“What happened?” Yamamoto said, sounding as concerned as Tsuna felt._

_It took a moment for Gokudera to reply. They could hear his breathing, sounding just as rough and unsteady as his voice. “It was Luca,” he finally said. “—My fault. …I was wrong.”)_

After that, they hadn’t been able to get much of anything else out of him. Fortunately, Reborn had arrived at Gokudera’s location moments later, with a medical team not far behind. The medics had done their best, but apparently they had been unable to salvage what remained of Ganauche’s left arm. They’d taken him back to the base and, after treated him for blood loss as well, were now currently at work getting him outfitted for a prosthetic.

As for Gokudera, Tsuna’s concerns had only mounted as the night wore on. He’d been covered in blood when Tsuna and Yamamoto had finally reached his location; it seemed he had been trying to keep Ganauche from bleeding out in the aftermath of their as-yet-unexplained encounter with Gokudera’s brother. He’d also had a split lip, as well as several other scrapes and bruises on his face; yet another thing he had yet to offer up any kind of explanation for.

What concerned Tsuna most of all, though, was the fact that since they had reunited, Gokudera had spoken a total of exactly six words to the both of them. “Are you all right?” first and foremost, followed only with: “I’m sorry.”

Since then, he had lapsed into complete silence, to the point where Tsuna found himself worriedly glancing over at him what felt like every few seconds, afraid that he might actually be falling into shock. He’d never seen Gokudera like this, not even when they’d been at their lowest points. Not even when the two of them had first found themselves trapped in the nightmarish ten-years-from-now future, or during Gokudera’s subsequent bout of depression during his training with the older Bianchi.

Currently they were both standing in the corner of Yamamoto’s room in the Vongola’s medical wing, along with Reborn. Yamamoto was sitting up in bed, patiently complying with a doctor who was shining a little handheld light into each of his eyes as she ran him through a series of tests.

Gokudera had his arms crossed, and was leaning on the wall. It might have almost seemed casual at first glance, had he not been so unnaturally rigid, and had his fingers not been pressed into his upper arm so tightly that the skin under his nails had gone white. Tsuna had at least managed to coax him into changing out of his bloodstained clothes, but he didn’t look much better off for the effort. In fact, Tsuna didn’t think he’d ever seen him looking this upset.

But the worst of it, Tsuna found, was that he was discovering that he had absolutely no idea what to say or how to act around Gokudera in this type of situation. Every time he opened his mouth to try, his brain came up short. And he was starting to feel increasingly guilty about it.

The trouble was, he and Gokudera had never had that type of relationship before, where they were able to fully open up to each other about whatever fears and troubles they were experiencing. Or at least, Tsuna amended, Gokudera had never had that type of relationship with him.

He was slowly coming to realize that in the two years they had known each other, Gokudera had never once confessed to him even the smallest doubt, or come to him with even the most minor personal dilemma. Instead, he would always force a smile whenever such a topic arose, and assure Tsuna that he was fine, with what Tsuna now realized must have been a considerable amount of feigned cheerfulness.

And Tsuna had never once tried to press him about it. Because the truth was, part of Tsuna had never wanted to. On some level, he had known there were parts of Gokudera that he kept hidden away, and yet Tsuna been content to let him do so, too fearful—and too selfish—to ever press the matter further.

Because in all honesty, to him, that side of Gokudera represented a part of the mafia world that he was still wary of coming to know. And even though he cared very much about Gokudera, a part of Tsuna—a small, shameful part—was still a little afraid of him. Or, more precisely, of coming face to face with that darker side of the mafia that he still so adamantly rejected.

And so he’d maintained a sort of comfortable distance between them, keeping that part of him at arm’s length. And he allowed Gokudera’s own overwhelming admiration and respect for him to play its part in maintaining that distance as well. Even though it bothered Tsuna sometimes that Gokudera even now so obviously thought of him first and foremost as a Boss, and then a friend, there were certain advantages to being the object of that level of deference. Gokudera always went out of his way to avoid burdening him, and for a very long time, Tsuna had been all too content to not be burdened.

But now things had changed. Right now, Gokudera clearly needed a friend more than ever. And Tsuna could no longer stand to just sit back and watch while he spiraled and kept trying to go it alone. It had scared Tsuna more than he’d thought possible when he’d realized Gokudera had gone running off after Luca on his own. And that fear had only compounded once he’d seen for himself just how badly Ganauche had been injured.

And maybe it was a little terrible that a small part of him had also been relieved, even though one of their own had been hurt so badly, because at least Gokudera was still unharmed. But he couldn’t help it. And since that moment, he hadn’t been able to stop from thinking about how it could just as easily have been Gokudera who’d gotten hurt instead, and how he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it.

That thought haunted him. And he wanted to confront Gokudera about it, to take him by the shoulders and scream at him and ask him _why_ , and just what in the hell had possessed him to do that.

But he couldn’t find it in him to go through with it. Every time he thought about what to do, what to say, he simply froze. He’d let that awkward gap flourish in between them for too long, and now that he was finally ready and willing to try and bridge it, he had absolutely no idea how.

And so here he was, just watching Gokudera quietly suffer and continue to close himself off, while all the while Tsuna simply scuffed his feet and did nothing, all because he felt too uncomfortable to bring it up. He was pathetic.

Finding himself at a loss yet again, he finally turned his attention back to Yamamoto for the time being. The doctor had finished her examination and had fastened what looked like one of those airplane sleep masks over Yamamoto’s eyes. Having done so, she had then started to scribble something on a notepad while the rest of them waited awkwardly.

“Well?” Tsuna asked once he couldn’t bear the weird silence any longer. “How is he?”

“There was significant corneal damage in both eyes,” the doctor replied, “but whether it’s temporary or permanent is impossible to say for certain yet. For now, we’ve done all the healing we can, and he should keep the mask in place until further notice. The lights should remain dimmed as well.”

She finished scribbling her notes and stood, gathering her things. “Aside from that, unfortunately, the only thing we can do is wait and see if his sight starts to recover. I’d say we’ll know for sure in the next twenty-four hours or so.”

“Thank you,” Yamamoto said with a sheepish smile.

The doctor nodded. “Make sure you get some rest.” With that, she exited the room, leaving the rest of them still standing there as the uncomfortable quiet slowly settled in around them once again.

Just when Tsuna thought he was about to snap from the pressure of trying to rack his brain for something to say, Yamamoto came to his rescue. “Wow, it just got so quiet all of a sudden,” he said, mirroring Tsuna’s thoughts exactly.

Tsuna gave a weak laugh in reply, grateful for Yamamoto’s ever-present optimism, although he still wasn’t sure what to say in response. Fortunately, Yamamoto seemed to pick up on this, and continued with his show of good cheer. “Come on, guys, don’t be so down. It’s not that bad, really! At times like these, we just have to pick ourselves back up again, right?”

“…Right,” Tsuna agreed, wishing he felt it more than he actually did.

“Heh. So no more worrying about me, okay, Tsuna? I mean it, all right?”

“All right,” Tsuna promised. It was a lie, but right now he knew it was what Yamamoto needed to hear. He wouldn’t relax until he was assured that the others wouldn’t continue to stress all night about his condition.

He did feel a little better, though, when Yamamoto beamed at him in response. Maybe that really had been the right thing to say.

“You too, Gokudera,” Yamamoto said after a slight pause. “No more worrying, okay?”

This was a fairly obvious ploy on Yamamoto’s part to get the other boy to finally snap out of his preoccupied, close-mouthed state. Still, Tsuna held his breath for a moment, praying that it might actually work. Any other time, such a statement from Yamamoto—suggesting that Gokudera of all people might actually be worried about him—would guarantee an indignant outburst.

This time, however, Gokudera said nothing, but instead simply looked away, his expression darker than ever.

“…Heh,” Yamamoto said after a moment, undaunted. Then his face brightened and he suddenly laughed for real. “Oh, hey, that reminds me!” He reached up to touch the bandage on his chin. “Told you it wasn’t a stop sign, ha ha!”

Gokudera immediately went stiff, looking completely stricken. Tsuna felt his stomach plummet. For a moment, he was almost in disbelief. For Yamamoto, who usually had an uncanny knack for putting people at ease, it was by far the worst he had ever seen him misread a situation.

To his credit, he almost immediately seemed to realize the joke hadn’t landed the way he’d intended. “Gokudera—” he began apologetically, but Gokudera had already turned and was now moving to hastily exit the room.

“Gokudera-kun, wait…” Tsuna said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He froze at the touch and turned to meet Tsuna’s eyes guiltily. “Boss… I…” He faltered then, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

His voice sounded so broken up that after a moment Tsuna allowed his hand to slip back from his shoulder, letting him go, feeling ashamed and useless even as he did so. A strained silence settled around the room as Gokudera’s footsteps disappeared down the hall.

“Ah… I didn’t…” Yamamoto said, sounding extremely contrite, though it was a little hard to read his face while he was wearing the eye mask.

“You didn’t mean anything by it,” said Tsuna.

“I didn’t think he’d…”

“I don’t think it’s your fault,” Tsuna said, not wanting him to feel badly about it. “Right now, he’s just…”

“…Yeah,” Yamamoto replied.

Silence fell in around them again. Tsuna was starting to get sick of this. It was bad enough that he didn’t know the right thing to say to get through to Gokudera. Now the oppressive, gloomy mood was taking hold of Yamamoto as well.

Reborn was the one who came to his rescue. Tsuna had almost forgotten he was there. “Well,” he said suddenly, “it’s getting late. You should both get some rest.”

Grateful as he was for the sudden out, a part of Tsuna was uncertain as to whether it was okay for him to leave. Besides, as wound up as he was, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to get any sleep. “Ah… I don’t know if I can.”

But Reborn, it seemed, was not taking no for an answer. “Yamamoto needs it more than anyone right now. You don’t want to keep him up, do you, Tsuna?”

He was clearly being kicked out. “…Ah,” he said at last. “Okay then. See you in the morning, all right?” he said to Yamamoto.

Yamamoto smiled faintly. “Have a good rest, Tsuna.”

Tsuna nodded, then immediately remembered Yamamoto couldn’t see. Awkwardly, he turned and left the room.  
  


\---

Yamamoto listened carefully as Tsuna’s footsteps faded away. Once he was gone, he let out a sigh and allowed himself to relax slightly, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back against the bed.

He was ninety percent sure that Reborn was still in the room, but just to make sure, he asked, “Kid?”

“I’m still here,” came the immediate reply. A moment later, Yamamoto felt the bed shift as Reborn’s weight landed gently on top of it.

“Maa… Guess I really put my foot in my mouth there, huh?” he said.

“If we’re talking about mistakes made in the past two hours, I’d say that’s relatively low on the list,” Reborn replied.

Yamamoto fought the urge to wince. “Yeah… I know. I really screwed up.”

“Tell me about Bella Roma,” Reborn said.

Yamamoto sighed. “She was…” He trailed off self-reproachfully. “Better than me.” He gave a short laugh, but then he paused again, a little more thoughtfully. “Well… no. Faster.” Had she really been, though? “Maybe.”

He thought about it a little more. Her speed had been impressive, true, but that wasn’t what had sealed his fate in the end. “…It was like she could see what I was going to do before I did it.”

“Did she say anything to you?” Reborn asked.

“She said she could see my intention…?” He tried to recall her exact words. “Ah—she said I lacked ‘killing intent’, whatever that means.”

All of a sudden he felt a light _thwap_ on the side of his head, making him jerk in surprise.

“It means you’re too soft,” Reborn said admonishingly, but in such a way that Yamamoto sensed it was out of affection as well. The kid always did have a weird way of showing it.

“Ha ha. I definitely picked a bad person to underestimate.” Then, because he felt like that was an understatement, he added, more quietly, “…Sorry. I’m pretty useless to the others like this.”

Another _thwap_. This time he’d almost been expecting it. “That attitude is even more useless,” Reborn said in a tone that left no room for argument. “If you’re going to obsess over your mistake, you should at least make it productive.”

“I guess,” Yamamoto said.

“Tell me why you lost.”

“…I underestimated her. I didn’t go all-out from the start. Then once I did, I thought I’d be able to catch her by surprise, even though it didn’t work the first time. And at the end, too… I thought she’d do the same as before and wait for me to attack.” That had been a particularly dumb move on his part. “I didn’t expect her to suddenly attack first.”

Reborn’s response was practical as ever. “So then, knowing what you did wrong, what can you do next time to make sure that you win?”

Yamamoto frowned. “That’s just it… I’ve been thinking about it, but I still don’t know. How do you beat someone who can see all your moves coming? And not only that, but now…”

He couldn’t quite manage to get the last part out. Saying it felt too much like a jinx. He was blind. He could be blind forever. With any luck at all, that wouldn’t happen… but in the worst-case scenario, he had to be prepared to face that reality. And it was a reality that made it much more difficult to sort out this particular dilemma.

Reborn was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “I’m disappointed, Yamamoto. This isn’t like you.”

That took him a little by surprise. Reborn had always been stern when the situation called for it, but even so, it was rare for Yamamoto hear such palpable disapproval in his tone. It stung a little bit. Abashed, he turned his head away, fiddling with the strap of his eye mask.

Thankfully, Reborn took pity on him, because otherwise he might have been sitting there for the rest of the night wondering what he did wrong. “You’re thinking that you’ve already lost, because you lost your sight. But your opponent never had that to begin with. You said the reason you lost is because you underestimated her. But what is it that you’re doing right now?”

For a few seconds, Yamamoto’s mind was blank. But then it suddenly clicked.

“Underestimating myself,” he said.

And even with his lack of sight, he thought he could almost sense the infant hitman’s smile. At the very least, when he spoke again he finally sounded pleased. “As a swordsman, you’re already relying on more than just the usual five senses, even if you don’t always realize it. You and Bella Roma are coming from the same place now. If there’s something she was able to see, then all you have to do is learn for yourself how to see it too.”

_(I didn’t ‘see’ through anything. Your intention was clear from the start.)_

_(I can see your will, Yamamoto Takeshi.)_

All of a sudden a small fragment of intuition sparked in his mind. It felt like the beginnings of some sort of understanding.

“I’ll leave you to think on it,” Reborn’s voice said. A moment later, Yamamoto felt his weight leave the bed, and then heard him walking out the door.  
  


\---

It had taken way too long for Gokudera to get himself back under control again.

He’d barely made it from the medical wing back to his own room. The instant he closed the door, he’d broken down and cried in a way he hadn’t done since he was a young child.

It felt like everything was trying to spill out from him all at once. First there was the guilt. Guilt over Ganauche, who’d lost his whole fucking _arm_. Who’d only been hurt because he’d come to Gokudera’s rescue, trusting and acting on Gokudera’s flawed intel, and in doing so had sealed his own fate. Who, ironically, Gokudera had been trying to listen to, whose words he had tried to heed, only to fuck up spectacularly and end up making things so much worse.

Then there was guilt over Yamamoto, who’d only come to Italy because of him. Who had never once complained, and had been completely supportive this whole fucking time; and who was still trying to make him feel better even now, in spite of the fact that he was the one who’d been fucking _blinded_. Which, again, had only happened because of Gokudera. That scar, the scar that they’d all joked about and made a game out of—that had all been Gokudera’s fault. It was never going to heal. It could never be undone. What had happened to his eyesight might never be undone. Yamamoto, who lived for baseball, and was equally (even infuriatingly) talented with the sword, might never be able to see again.

That was Gokudera’s fault. No matter what the others said, no matter how much Yamamoto pretended like it didn’t matter and kept trying to act like his normal brainless idiot self. It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t okay. And it was on him.

And if all he’d been carrying around was just the guilt, maybe he still would have been able to manage. But it wasn’t just that. Even worse was the _fear_. Of the what-ifs. Of the inevitable.

Fear that someone else would get hurt—or killed. Because of him.

Fear that _Tsuna_ would get hurt. Or…

_(If you’re so determined to hide yourself behind your so-called new family… then I’ll just have to destroy them.)_

…Because of him.

Every time he thought about it he wanted to scream. He wanted to seize Tsuna by the wrist and drag him some place far, far away to hide. Somewhere where it would be safe. He wanted to lock Luca and the rest of the DiSanto family up in his childhood home and then nuke it from orbit.

But he couldn’t do those things. Even if Tsuna wanted to leave with him, there was no such thing as a truly safe place to hide. Not from Luca. And even if there had been, he had no right to just uproot Tsuna’s whole life like that. Especially when the whole thing had nothing to do with him in the first place. There was no problem for Tsuna without Gokudera there. The problem solved itself. It was his issue, and no one else’s.

The ironic thing was, he had searched for so long to find a family like this. People that cared enough to put themselves at risk for _his_ sake. And now that he finally had that, it was the thought of losing it, of having to leave it forever, that was slowly destroying him from the inside out.

_(I will give you one day.)_

He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave them. Just the thought of never seeing them again was so painful he wanted to rip his heart out to stop feeling it. He would do anything for them. For Tsuna. He’d take a bullet for them in a heartbeat. He would take a thousand bullets. He would give his own life, if it came to that, if he had no other choice.

But to leave? To walk out, knowing he was leaving them behind? To be forced to move on and spend the rest of his life without them? That was something else entirely.

That, he knew, would break him.

But that was what was being demanded.

And if he didn’t go through with it… he already knew the price he would pay.

_(I will personally kill the Vongola Tenth, and I will make you watch.)_

There was no doubt in his mind as to whether Luca would actually do it. And he’d already underestimated him once. To make that mistake again a second time, with Tsuna’s life now on the line, knowing what Luca could do—he couldn’t let that happen.

He _would not_ let that happen.

That was the thought that kept him from falling apart now that he knew what he had to do. It was the mantra that had allowed him to finally get back up and to start formulating his plan.

There wasn’t much to it; it was, after all, not the first time he’d snuck his way out of an Italian estate in the middle of the night. And he had spent much of the previous day memorizing the building’s layout for just this reason. He’d taken careful note of the security details as well. He was confident he would be able to pull it off.

And right now was the best time to do it. It was already late, and the people that were still up were distracted with the goings-on in the medical wing. He couldn’t put it off; Luca had only given him a single day, after all. And really, most of all he just _needed_ to do it now, while he still had the will to make the attempt. Before he lost his nerve.

He briefly considered leaving a note behind, but he knew that the process of trying to write one out would just derail him all over again, and then he wouldn’t be able to do it. He was already starting to waver. And there was a good chance, too, that Tsuna would come by his room once he was done visiting with Yamamoto. And if he did—if Gokudera saw his face again—he knew he would freeze up.

Unbidden, the memory of leaving his childhood home all those years ago stirred up in his mind. His sister’s voice calling after him, trying to stop him. The way he had forced himself to ignore it, to keep running.

He wouldn’t be strong enough to do that again.

The only thing he did leave behind was his Vongola Gear. That he laid neatly atop his bedspread. He hoped that would be enough.

Stealthily, he made his way through the gardens surrounding the estate until he reached a secluded area on the northern end of the grounds. There was a large wall that ran the entire circumference of the property, but this one particular section was not as well-lit or guarded. Trees and vines more or less hid the space from view from the rest of the area. It was definitely his best shot.

But just as he was preparing to scale it, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden meowing sound coming from close by.

With a start, he spun his head, looking for the source of the cry. It couldn’t be…

It was. “—Uri?” he whispered in surprise. His hand dropped automatically to his belt, before he remembered that he’d left the Buckle back inside. So how, then, had Uri gotten out…?

There was no time to ponder it, though—Uri was already scampering back off toward the mansion, and if anyone spotted him, Gokudera’s cover would instantly be blown. Biting back a curse, Gokudera sprinted after him.

“Uri!” he called again in a low voice as the little cat slowed down and took a sudden detour toward the interior of one of the gardens. With another curse, Gokudera followed him. This part of the grounds was not as dark; landscape lighting had been tastefully installed along the paths, illuminating them in a soft orange glow.

Just up ahead was a small marble fountain. The main reservoir was set deep into the ground, so that the pool was almost at ground level. Uri skipped right up to it and immediately began lapping at the gently rippling water as though it were a hot summer day.

Then, to Gokudera’s horror, he heard footsteps approaching. And before he could do anything, Uri suddenly perked up with excitement.

And then, just like that, he was bounding forward and then leaping straight into the waiting person’s arms, where he mewled with delight.

“Ah—Uri!” the person said in surprise, and Gokudera suddenly felt a feeling of dread that he’d never thought he would ever experience at the sound of that particular voice.

This was what he’d been afraid of. Even with all the resolve in the entire world, this was the one thing that nothing could have ever prepared him to face.

“…Gokudera-kun?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Oh man. All right, so just a heads up, I will try to have the next chapter out on Thursday as per usual, but even after a full month of editing I’m still fussing around with it, so worst case scenario it’ll come out on Friday instead. It’s just really important to me to get it right.
> 
> Also, it’s a small detail, but the idea that it might be seen as an inconsistency bothers me, so: Gokudera did indeed leave his earpiece back at the bar. Ganauche, however, brought his with him, but switched it off to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally tip off the enemy (and to keep from getting distracted). So that’s what Gokudera used to call for help after Luca left. Now you know! I’m sure all of you were really fucking concerned about this critical part of the story lol.


	9. Target 08 - Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Target 08 - Tsuna confronts Gokudera. Anthony tries to reason with Luca. Yamamoto has a breakthrough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, brace yourselves, because this is it. Now entering Catharsis City, population: these guys. We’re about to go to some very real places; it’s fucking feels o’clock.
> 
> Also, this is by far the longest chapter in the fic. I literally could (and possibly should) have made it into two chapters, but screw it. So anyways, just a heads up.
> 
>  **Warnings** – _These contain **spoilers** , so skip ahead if you want to avoid._
> 
>   1. Trigger warning for a fairly vivid description of a panic attack/breakdown/whatever you want to call it.
> 

> 
> Also, just. Feelings. Just. A lot of feelings, everywhere, all over the place. It’s a mess.

  
It was the worst-case scenario. It was the universe asking the impossible of him. Lie to Tsuna, the person he cared about and trusted most in the world. Tell him nothing was wrong, when nothing could be further from the truth. Pretend everything was all right, when inside he was just barely holding it together.

But there was no other way. He had to protect him. It was the only thing he had left at this point. The knowledge that if he went through with this, at least it meant Tsuna would be safe. He had to do it.

He had to.

“…Hey, Boss,” he said, forcing his tone to remain even.

He tried to read Tsuna’s expression. He was gently scratching Uri between the ears now, his initial look of surprise slowly being replaced with one of confusion and concern. “What are you doing out here?” he said hesitantly.

“Nothing,” Gokudera answered, before kicking himself mentally. He could hardly have sounded more suspicious if he tried. “Couldn’t sleep,” he amended, hoping that was a little better. That, at least, didn’t sound so damn vague.

But Tsuna was eyeing him more closely now, and though it seemed like he was deliberating, there was a definite hint of doubt in his eyes as he gently set Uri back down.

“…You’re lying.”

Gokudera cursed inwardly. “Boss—”

But before he could make up some other lie or excuse, Tsuna suddenly spoke again, in a rush, almost as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “You—you can talk to me, you know,” he stammered. “I’m your friend. So, please… tell me what’s going on.”

…Shit.

He couldn’t do this. “Nothing’s going on,” he said, desperately racking his brain for a better defense, something else to tell him that would throw him off. Nothing sprang to mind. He had jumped into this without any kind of plan. Again. He had counted on not getting caught. And now that he had, he was floundering.

And Tsuna was seeing right through him. Gokudera could tell: he already knew. Of course he knew. This was Tsuna, after all. Maybe he wasn’t always book-smart, but he was insightful, and perceptive, and when it came down to it, he was the most clear-sighted individual Gokudera had ever met.

“…You were leaving again, weren’t you?” Tsuna said, sure enough, and Gokudera’s heart sank.

He swallowed. “No—”

“Gokudera-kun…”

“I _wasn’t_ —it’s not—”

“ _Stop_ it,” Tsuna cut in, more forcefully now. “Just stop.”

And Gokudera did, biting back yet another pointless denial and falling silent instead.

Finally Tsuna looked at him, his eyes pleading. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

And Gokudera felt his still-all-too-fragile reserves start to break.

“…I _have_ to go,” he said, finally giving up on uselessly trying to feign otherwise.

Immediately, Tsuna shook his head. “No.”

Gokudera exhaled, which was a mistake—it came out way too shaky for his liking. “You don’t understand—”

“Then _tell_ me! Please!”

Gokudera’s throat had started to tighten up. Frustrated, he bit at his lip in an attempt to keep from losing any further control. “He’s… if I don’t go, he’ll…”

He couldn’t utter the words. Even now, the thought lay terrifyingly in wait, daring him to invoke it, to voice it and make it real.

Finally, he just said, “I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”

Tsuna frowned. “Gokudera-kun, it’s not your fault—”

“It _is_ my fault!” he said, surprising himself with his sudden vehemence. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that everyone kept trying to act otherwise. Maybe because he was afraid that deep down they did blame him, and were simply being kind. More likely, it was because their continued acceptance of him only made him feel less worthy. “You’re only here because of me! They targeted the family because of _me_!”

“That doesn’t make it your fault!” Tsuna said just as ardently.

Gokudera looked away, frustrated.

“Is that why you want to leave?” Tsuna asked.

“I don’t _want_ to leave!” Gokudera blurted, perhaps too honestly. But he didn’t—he didn’t want Tsuna to think that. “I don’t have a choice!”

Tsuna’s brow creased. “Of course you have—”

“ _He’ll kill you!_ ”

Tsuna stopped short.

Gokudera stared at him wide-eyed, breathing hard. All of a sudden it had just come bursting out of him. It was as much of a shock to him as it probably had been to Tsuna.

“…What?” Tsuna said.

Gokudera swallowed hard. “He told me… he told me I had one day. He wants me to join him. If I don’t… if I refuse to do it… he’ll kill you.”

_(and I will make you watch)_

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying his hardest to ignore the sick feeling in his gut.

Tsuna shook his head, looking defiant. “I don’t—”

“ _Listen_ to me!” Gokudera cut him off, his eyes snapping open again and desperately meeting Tsuna’s. He needed him to understand. “ _Please_! He’ll do it! He doesn’t care! He thinks—” He broke off, briefly, as an involuntary shudder swept over him. “In his mind, him and me are the same. He thinks there’s some fucking bond between us, and to him, the Vongola are just standing in the way. And when something gets in his way…”

He trailed off, thinking of Ganauche. Of the ill-fated servants in the castle kitchens that day. Of his father.

Tsuna, however, was still looking stubborn. “I don’t care.”

“Boss—”

“I’m not scared of him!”

 _I am_ , Gokudera thought. He opened his mouth to say it, but the words wouldn’t come out. He just stood there like an idiot. But he was sure Tsuna could see right through him anyway.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He needed to but he couldn’t. Of course Tsuna wasn’t scared, because he didn’t know Luca like Gokudera did. He hadn’t seen him slit a girl’s throat open just to prove a point. Hadn’t seen him blow up Ganauche’s _arm_ to do so again, six years later.

Maybe they could beat him. Maybe they could figure out some way.

Or maybe it would all end in disaster.

He couldn’t. He _couldn’t_. His brain was telling him that Tsuna was right, that he was just too afraid to think clearly. But his heart was racing now, and telling him the very opposite. It didn’t matter if it was a one percent chance or a one hundred percent chance. Even the smallest possibility that Tsuna could _die_ , _because of him_ , was too much.

And it didn’t _feel_ like just a possibility. It felt like a certainty, a looming inevitability, bearing down on him with a force so staggering it felt like it would crush his lungs.

“You can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t risk it.”

“Gokudera-kun…” Tsuna looked pained, confused. But the determined look had not faded from his eyes. “I’m not just going to sit back and let him do whatever he wants.”

“Boss, _please_ —”

“I’m not letting you go!”

The fierceness in his voice was so strong it almost made him shrink back from the intensity of it. He stared back, his pulse beating loudly in his head now, heart pounding with a furor that left him dizzy. He was no match for this. Tsuna’s will left no room for argument.

They were at an impasse. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t see how he could possibly get Tsuna to understand what needed to be done. Tsuna’s very nature made him the type of person that _couldn’t_ understand it.

But that same nature could get him killed. And Gokudera could not take that.

Something crazed was building up inside him now, overwhelming all rational thought. He couldn’t shake off the fear, the _certainty_ , that Luca’s words would come true. And why shouldn’t they? Everything he’d said the last time had been true as well. He shouldn’t exist. If not for him, Yamamoto wouldn’t have been blinded. If not for him, Tsuna would be _safe_.

How could he have been so stupid and selfish as to let them get involved with this? How could he have missed that danger until it was too late? And all just because he’d wanted so _badly_ to belong. But it was no good. _He_ was no good.

And it didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter what happened to him now. The only thing that mattered was that Tsuna not be hurt. Nothing else was important compared to that. That was why he couldn’t back down.

Even if it meant going against Tsuna.

His hand shook as he reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a handful of bombs. There was a feverish edge to his thoughts now, a sort of tunnel vision narrowing down everything to this one, single purpose.

“I won’t let you stop me,” he whispered, even though the truth was it felt like his soul was being split in two.

Hurt flashed through Tsuna’s expression, but he continued to meet Gokudera’s gaze steadily, with that calm, clear determination that had never once failed him when the chips were down.

“If I have to stop you by force, I will,” he replied.

For what felt like the longest moment of Gokudera’s life, they remained like that, locked in a silent battle of determined wills. He could feel tears starting to well up, and he swallowed them back. He put every last ounce of the wavering, unstable resolve he had left into standing his ground.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered how he had felt during their conflict with the Millefiore, when he’d learned that the future Tsuna had been gunned down. He remembered the way his heart had constricted, how the sheer horror of it had burned through him from the inside out. He would do anything in order to never feel like that again.

And somewhere else, somewhere even deeper inside, he remembered how it had felt when Tsuna had said to him, _What do you think we’re fighting for? It’s so we can have snowball fights and watch fireworks again_. How it had felt to finally realize that his life had value to someone else, not just for what he could give, but for who he was.

_(I want to laugh with everyone once again, but what meaning will it have if you die?)_

And slowly, his hand slipped back down, and the dynamite he’d been clutching slipped from his grip and clattered loosely to the ground, as he felt something wet sliding down his cheek.

“Please,” he said.

He wasn’t sure if he was asking Tsuna, or something else. And he didn’t know for what.

Tsuna was looking anguished now, but his resolution did not fade.

“I’m not gonna let you go.”

Gokudera looked away, biting his lip in a futile effort to keep more tears from spilling. “I don’t… I don’t _want_ to,” he tried to say, but then faltered again. Now his nose was starting to run, too. He was a complete fucking mess, his words broken up by his body’s wracked efforts to stop the tears from turning into straight out sobs. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to leave. But I can’t…”

It was all pouring out from him now, everything he’d been trying to suppress, all at once. The overpowering, hysterical fear of seeing Tsuna get hurt, of having his worst nightmares come true. The helplessness he felt at being caught up in the tide of something that had started long before he’d even been born, something that he’d never had any say in, but that seemed to govern his whole damn life. And the hollow, bleak misery he felt at the idea of losing everything he’d fought so hard for; everything he valued most. The feeling that made his life worth living. His home. His place.

All of that was now gushing forth in the ugliest way possible. The more he tried to control it, the more out of control he felt. “…I tried so hard to keep you out of it. I didn’t want you to get dragged down into it, but now it’s happening anyway, and I can’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t let you get hurt, I can’t…”

“Gokudera-kun…” Tsuna said quietly. He was stepping forward, and at the same time, Gokudera suddenly realized that he was backing up. He didn’t know why; it was like his legs were moving of their own accord. But Tsuna kept moving in closer anyway, and all of a sudden Gokudera felt something big and solid behind him—a tree—and he physically couldn’t move back any further.

And he was stuck there, and he couldn’t stop fucking _crying_ , and now more words were pouring out of him in a stream of rambling nonsense: “I can’t lose you. I can’t do it, I can’t…”

It felt like it was pressing in on him now, this paralyzing, out-of-control feeling. It felt like death. It was choking him, suffocating him, and Tsuna was the only thing still keeping him together, but he was also the reason he was falling apart. “You’re… you’re…”

_You’re everything. The best thing that ever happened to me. The most important thing in the world to me._

He _couldn’t lose that_.

“Listen to me, Gokudera-kun.”

Tsuna was standing right in front of him now. Gokudera’s whole body was shaking, exhausted with the effort of trying to get himself back under control. Tsuna waited until he finally managed to look back up at him.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s _not_ your fault,” he repeated as Gokudera immediately shook his head. “It’s my fault.”

That was wrong. He didn’t understand where Tsuna was going with this, but that, at least was wrong. But again, Tsuna stopped him as he tried to shake his head ‘no.’ “Listen, okay? Please.”

And he sounded so imploring, and all of a sudden Gokudera was just so _tired_. Tired of struggling. Tired of fighting.

And so he tried.

“Ever since I first met you… I’ve been selfish,” Tsuna said. “I haven’t been fair to you. I was so obsessed with trying to keep my life normal, and I was scared to let anything in that might screw that up.” Tsuna let out a short, bitter laugh, then collected himself again.

“You… you were my first friend,” he said with a small smile. “You know that?” The smile faded, replaced by a guilty expression. “But… you were mafia. You came from a totally different world than me. And even though I cared about you, I didn’t want that in my life, so… I rejected it. The part of you that was mafia, that came from that place… I didn’t want it. So I just pretended it didn’t exist. And in doing that, I rejected part of you.”

Gokudera swallowed, but said nothing. He knew this. Deep down, he’d always known it. It hurt to think about, so he pretended it wasn’t the case. And once he’d realized just how deeply ingrained Tsuna’s aversion to the mafia world was, he’d tried to adjust, had tried to be there for him not just as a follower, but as a friend.

But part of him felt like he would never be good enough for that. He’d been in the mafia his entire life; it was a part of his identity. Removed from that context, he had absolutely no idea who he was, let alone if it was a person actually worth knowing. Nothing about him _was_ normal, in the way that Tsuna craved. And what was normal to _him_ often seemed to make absolutely no sense to Tsuna. In fact, he often seemed equal parts disturbed and horrified by it.

So all of this was just confirmation of what he’d always known. That they would always be on different wavelengths. That if Tsuna ever came to understand who and what he really was, he would be repelled by it, because it was so completely antithetical to who Tsuna was himself.

Suddenly he didn’t want to hear any more. But he owed it to Tsuna to hear him out, so he forced himself to be still and listen.

“I didn’t want your problems to become my problems,” Tsuna continued. “I was trying to keep the good while rejecting all the bad.” He looked away for a moment, and Gokudera felt his stomach tighten fearfully.

But to his surprise, when Tsuna turned back, there were tears prickling at the corners of his own eyes.

“But you never got that choice,” he said. “You don’t get to just push away the bad parts of your life and pretend they don’t exist. And deep down, I knew that, but I wanted to pretend it wasn’t the case, and that we could just… just stay normal junior high school kids forever, and not have the mafia be a part of it.”

He swallowed visibly. “…And whenever you called me ‘Tenth’, or ‘Boss’, it was always a reminder that that wasn’t going to happen, so… so I always held back, a little. And I know that made you do the same. So I know that’s why you don’t… you don’t like opening up. And you have all these secrets, and you’re always just… just trying to keep it all to yourself.”

Gokudera found that his eyes were suddenly stinging again, but for a very different reason this time.

“I get it,” Tsuna said. “I haven’t been a good friend. And how could you ever want to share any of that, if no one was ever willing to help?

“So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so selfish, and that I wasn’t willing to help you carry those burdens sooner. I’m sorry. But I want to do it now. I want to start being that kind of friend. If it’s not too late. And… if you’re still willing to give me the chance. Please.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and Gokudera felt his own lip trembling as he blinked away more tears. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words.

He felt… raw. Exposed. It felt like all of a sudden someone had come along and shone a light onto the deepest parts of him, the parts that even he himself didn’t fully understand.

All his life, he had been lonely. Even before Luca, before his sister’s poison cooking, before his father had turned cold and distant. He had always been alone. It wasn’t something he _wanted_ , it was just something that was. He and Bianchi had grown up isolated, but where his sister had always been self-reliant and sure of herself, he’d always felt restless and anxious. So eventually he had just learned to manage, out of sheer necessity. He wouldn’t have survived otherwise.

And over the years, little by little he’d been driven further and further into himself, eventually starting to push others away before they could do the same to him. Even after he’d met Tsuna, that hadn’t changed, not really. Over time, he’d been able to open up a little more. But the idea of “sharing his burdens” was a completely foreign one. It had simply never occurred to him.

He was terrified for a moment. Terrified that Tsuna didn’t know the full extent of what he was offering. What he was getting himself into. Gokudera himself was only just now realizing exactly how heavy those burdens had always been. He couldn’t for the life of him understand how he hadn’t been crushed beneath them years ago. Or maybe he had been, this entire time, and he’d simply never noticed.

All at once he realized just how desperately he wanted to say yes. But he was still afraid. It felt like too much to ask. And maybe it would be too much for Tsuna.

But he wanted it so badly.

…And Tsuna was the strongest person he knew.

He was watching him. Tsuna. Tear streaks were now visible on his own face, but he said nothing; just waited.

And finally, Gokudera nodded.

It was the smallest, feeblest gesture. But for him it carried the weight of the earth.

And then he was shaking again, and his vision blurred, and suddenly Tsuna pulled him into a hug, and Gokudera just let him, resting his head on his shoulder.  
  


\---

When he finally pulled back, some minutes later, his eyes were red and swollen, and he felt exhausted, but somehow also lighter than he had in days.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Tsuna smiled at him. “Better?” he said after a moment.

He nodded. “A little. But I don’t… I’m still scared,” he confessed, feeling somewhat ashamed.

But Tsuna didn’t seem offended. “…Well, we have still have one day, right? So… we just have until then to come up with some kind of plan.”

“I guess,” he said, trying not to sound too unconvinced. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He was moved beyond words by what Tsuna had said to him. It went beyond gratitude. But none of that changed the fact that his brother’s ultimatum was still looming overhead.

“We’ll manage,” Tsuna said firmly. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

And he sounded so sure, and Gokudera wanted so badly to believe him.

He’d been panicking before. He realized that now. He hadn’t understood until tonight the full extent of the hold his brother had had on him for all these years. How completely it had enveloped him. He’d been so desperate to prove he could handle it that he’d refused to deal with those fears right up till the point when they had come to life and almost swallowed him whole.

And right there and then, he decided: he would not let that fear sway him any longer.

“…Okay,” he replied.

Tsuna smiled, and Gokudera felt a suddenly overwhelming rush of gratitude. “Thanks, Tenth,” he said quietly.

Then he realized his mistake.

“—Uh, I mean. Neo-Pri—Neo Vongola Primo…”

Tsuna laughed. Then, looking a bit tentative, but sincere, he said, “How about just… Tsuna?”

Something in Gokudera’s brain suddenly shorted out, and for a moment he just blinked back at Tsuna, not sure if he realized that what he’d just said might possibly be the most difficult thing Gokudera had ever attempted.

But seeing how hopeful Tsuna looked, and remembering what he had said only a few minutes ago about how calling him ‘Tenth’ made him feel uncomfortable, he swallowed and tried to give it a shot.

“…Tsuna,” he mumbled. Immediately, he felt like he’d just sworn in a church. But the way Tsuna laughed and the warmth it brought to his chest more than made the effort worthwhile.

“We’ll work on it,” Tsuna said with a grin. Gokudera nodded, feeling another flush of warmth, this time to his cheeks.

Tsuna saved him by changing the subject. “All right,” he said, more seriously. “So… Luca. He must still have some sort of weakness, right?”

Gokudera didn’t disagree, but he also hadn’t been able to think of any. But then again, he admittedly hadn’t been able to consider it with a clear head until now. He went quiet for a moment, thinking back to the confrontation earlier that night.

He frowned. “Actually… there was one moment when it almost seemed like he lost control for a second. Maybe even a couple times, actually.”

_(I’m the only one on your side!)_

“…It was when he was angry. When I kept telling him I wasn’t going to join him, and he finally lost it.”

_(I thought after all this time, it would be different.)_

“He’s always trying to act calm, but that time…” He thought about it more. “…Maybe that’s why? Maybe when he loses control of his emotions, it makes him lose control over the Command too.”

“So… if that’s it, then we just need to figure out how to get him to lose control,” Tsuna said.

But the truth was, that was easier said than done. “…I don’t know. He seemed like he had a pretty good handle on it. To shake him up to the point where he can’t use his abilities… that’s going to be really hard. I don’t even know where we’d start.”

“I have an idea,” said another voice.

Gokudera jumped about a foot while Tsuna let out a small squeak and spun around so fast he nearly fell over.

There, by the fountain, Reborn stood smiling.  
  


\---

Luca seemed to favor the ballroom, Anthony thought as he once again passed through the great mahogany doors. He wondered distractedly if there was any psychological significance to that. The room was grand, opulent; but also utterly still and empty.

Once again, he found Luca standing over by the piano, just as he had on the night of the coup. This time, however, rather than the piano itself, it was a small picture that seemed to have captured his attention, displayed next to the music rack in an antique golden frame.

Anthony frowned as he drew closer. It was a picture of a young woman with long silver hair. The resemblance to Luca’s younger brother was unmistakable. This was Giovanni’s mistress. For a moment the name escaped him, but then he recalled—Lavina.

“I can’t believe he kept this all these years,” Luca said with a fair amount of distaste.

“I can’t believe the Madam never made him take it down,” Anthony replied with a raised eyebrow as he reached his side.

He waited, but Luca didn’t say anything further on the subject. He seemed lost in thought. On the surface it seemed tranquil enough, but Anthony knew better. And really, it could hardly be a healthy type of brooding if he was in here alone, staring at a picture of the deceased woman his late father had, by all accounts, been in love with.

“Kid,” he said softly.

Luca turned to eye him in mild surprise. “‘Kid’?”

Anthony sighed. “Boss. Listen to me, okay—”

But he was interrupted as Luca suddenly seemed to notice his rolled-up sleeves and the bandages wrapped around his right arm. “What happened?” he said, concern flitting across his face.

“What happened?” he repeated, mildly exasperated. “Reborn happened. That whole one hundred man thing only distracted him for about twenty seconds. I told you we couldn’t underestimate them.”

Luca glanced away, looking a bit chagrined. “…Is it bad?”

“It’ll heal. Luca, listen,” Anthony pressed. “We need to end this. I’m serious. The Vongola have us outgunned. It’s not even close. And they know it. So far they’ve let us off, but they won’t keep doing it.”

“You really think they’d let me off?” Luca muttered with tired cynicism.

“I met the young Boss,” Anthony said insistently. “He’s not a bad kid. I don’t think they want any more trouble, they just want to be left alone.”

“So they can take _my_ brother,” Luca said with sudden force, “raise him up as part of their family, make whatever demands they want, and if we capitulate then somehow _they’re_ the ones doing _us_ a favor?”

Anthony gave a frustrated sigh. “You’re twisting this.”

Luca glared at him. “Is that all it takes?” he said derisively. “One little wound and all of a sudden you’re on their side?”

“I’m on _your_ side,” Anthony said, stung. “You _know_ that. I’m looking _out_ for you, it’s my _job_ —”

“Then don’t bother with it anymore,” Luca said suddenly, turning away.

Anthony blinked for a moment, taken aback.

“Luca—”

“ _Boss_ ,” said Luca, turning back on him with a sudden sharpness. “Not ‘ _Kid_ ’, not ‘ _Luca_.’ I’m your _Boss_.”

Anthony stared at him for a long moment.

All at once, it struck him that Luca might be too far gone now to convince. That if Anthony continued, if he told him exactly what Reborn had said, rather than seeing reason and backing down, Luca might instead do just the opposite.

That would be suicidal. …But it wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen that side of Luca, either.

All of a sudden he recalled the Arcobaleno’s words from earlier. _‘What led you to work for such a foolhardy man as Luca DiSanto?’_

The answer to that was of course more complicated than he would have been able to explain. But the fact remained that he did care about Luca. He cared a whole fucking lot, and he didn’t think he had it in him to just sit back and watch while he went and got himself killed.

But if Luca thought that Anthony might try to stop him, there was a risk he might take preventative measures. He didn’t think Luca would ever hurt him, but he could incapacitate him, certainly. In fact, it was his area of expertise.

He had to back off, he realized. Though it killed him to do so. But it wasn’t just Luca’s life at stake either. It was the whole family, and even if Luca had forgotten, Anthony still knew it was his duty to protect them.

“I asked you at the start of this if I could count on you,” Luca said quietly. And to anyone else listening, it might have sounded cold, but Anthony knew him well enough to catch the hurt in that tone.

Anthony fought a wince. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn it into something like that.”

There was another agonizingly long silence.

Finally, Luca indicated his head toward the door. “Go,” he said. “Leave.”

Anthony opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again with a sigh.

With a heavy feeling, he turned and walked back to the door.  
  


\---

Yamamoto had just had a breakthrough.

His conversation with Reborn had gotten him thinking more carefully about Bella’s words during their fight. “ _I can feel your will_.” And that was when it had hit him: _will_. It wasn’t just a metaphor for predicting his actions. It was ‘will’ as in purpose. ‘Will’, as in determination.

‘Will’, as in _Dying Will_.

Somehow she was able to see it. Not just the external flames that physically manifested during battle, but the internal wave energy, the _hadou_ , that produced those flames. He remembered someone—Lal Mirch, maybe?—telling them once that those wave energies were equivalent to a person’s own life force. And that the Dying Will resonated with one’s emotions, which was why the flame grew more powerful the more determined that you were.

If she was able to sense that wave energy flowing inside of everyone, and if that energy really did change and fluctuate along with that person’s emotions, then it would explain perfectly how she had been able to anticipate each one of his attacks. It would be like having a neon sign on your body telling your opponent exactly when and how you were going to strike at them next.

The question was, then, how could he learn how to do that too?

He hadn’t had any clue where to start, so at first he’d just tried the Obi-Wan Kenobi stuff: “ _stretch out with your feelings_.” He quickly realized that, although that sounded cool, it was not actually good or practical advice in any meaningful way.

So he’d taken a few deep breaths and just sat there for a moment. He’d practiced meditation before, both during sword training with his dad, and later during his training with Reborn in the future timeline. Even Squalo, in surprising contrast to his loud and destructive nature, had insisted on taking a little time in the evenings (and one time even under a waterfall) for quiet reflection. Yamamoto supposed it was just one of those cool master assassin things that was necessary to fully learn the ways of the sword.

The point was, he was already familiar with the process of focusing on his breaths, the inhalation and exhalation, and observing the way his body moved as he breathed. This time, as he sat there, he started in the same way, with his chest, ribcage, shoulders, and belly, and then slowly expanded his focus outward to the rest of his body. Outward to his arms; down to his legs; all the way down and out.

He concentrated for a moment on the feeling; tried to map it out. This was himself.

Then, with another deep breath, he focused on his Rain Necklace and, with a burst of determination, activated its blue flames.

 _Concentrate_. He gathered his focus for a moment, and then, same as before, centered it first on his breath, and then allowed it to gently travel outwards, tracing the map of his body same as before. _Focus. What feels the same? What’s different?_

He repeated this cycle several more times. Flames on; flames off; flames back on. By the third or fourth time around, he was slowly beginning to detect a slight change. It helped to physically imagine the flames as they ran along the corridors of his spirit, to imagine the surge of bright blue determination coursing through him like electricity.

By the fifth time, he could feel the change in his body’s energy the instant he activated the flames.

He was leaning back against his pillow with his arms crossed behind his head, wondering where to go from there, when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.

Sitting up a little straighter, he took a deep breath and attempted to identify the source. Now it was finally a real test. It wasn’t just _him_ this time, but a whole other person separate from himself. Though there were only so many people it could be, of course, and he already had a few suspicions.

The footsteps slowly drew to a halt as they reached the door to his room, and after a few seconds, Yamamoto smiled softly.

There was no need to try and sense this person’s _hadou_ after all. The only people that would possibly be visiting him again at this hour were his doctors, Tsuna, Reborn, or Gokudera. Reborn, he was fairly sure, wouldn’t have been so obvious in his approach. The doctors would have entered the room without hesitation, rather than stopping in the doorway. And Tsuna would have said something to greet him, or to check if he was actually still awake.

So that only left one person.

“Gokudera?”

There was silence for a second; then he heard the footsteps resume, entering the room and approaching his bed. They stopped just a couple feet away. “…How’d you know?”

Yamamoto smiled. “Just a guess.”

He could hear Gokudera make a _hmmph_ sound, and his smile widened. Clearly, he was feeling better, if he was back to his usual self enough to be annoyed. Yamamoto had a suspicion as to why that might be. “You talked to Tsuna?” he asked.

“…Yeah.”

Yamamoto smiled. “Good.”

He could faintly hear Gokudera shifting in place slightly awkwardly. “I’m sorry about before,” he said. “Running out. And also…” There was more shuffling and shifting of weight. “I’m sorry about your eyes.”

Yamamoto’s smile faded. “It’s not your—”

“Not my fault, yeah, I know. Everybody keeps saying that. …But I’m still sorry.”

And even though Yamamoto’s first instinct was to shake his head and continue to argue, some small, wise little voice in the back of his head made him pause. Because while Gokudera blaming himself for something was perhaps not so rare, for Gokudera to actually _apologize_ definitely was. And for him to apologize to _Yamamoto_ of all people—twice in the span of thirty seconds!—was pretty much unheard of. It was clearly very important to him, and that meant that the only decent thing for Yamamoto to do was accept it.

“All right,” he said. “But I hope you believe us, though. It’s really not your fault.”

Gokudera grumbled something that didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Hey,” Yamamoto said, more softly. “You can trust us, you know.”

It was a bit awkward, communicating like this. When he and Gokudera were in a rhythm, everything always came so naturally. Gokudera would complain about things he didn’t really mind, and mutter insults he didn’t really mean, and Yamamoto would sidestep the insults and brush off the complaints with practiced ease. It was comforting, and familiar, and they were good at it.

But now Gokudera was swapping out the insults for apologies, and the complaints for awkward silences, and it was kind of throwing him for a loop. And to add to that, so much of what Gokudera typically said was never really _said_ at all, but instead concealed just beneath the surface, visible through his expressions, his movements, his body language. All things Yamamoto could no longer just observe. He was beginning to realize just how much of that he’d taken for granted.

All he could do was try to rely on how well he already knew Gokudera. He was scared, probably. And worried, both about Yamamoto, and about whatever else was still to come with this whole situation.

But if he thought about in those terms, maybe it wasn’t so hard to figure out what to say, after all.

“It’ll be all right. We’ve made it through everything else together, and we’ll make it through this, too. So don’t worry. As for this…” He nudged the eye mask gently. “I’ll definitely get better. But even if I don’t… I won’t let this stop me.”

There. That was the best he could do. He hoped it would be enough.

“…Good.”

Yamamoto laughed, relieved.

“Hey, Gokudera,” he said, because after a speech like that, he had better get to work on making sure he followed through. “Can you do me a favor?”  
  


\---

The baseball idiot’s half-covered face lit up as soon as Gokudera reentered the room, Shigure Kintoki in hand.

“Thanks,” he said as Gokudera handed it to him. “I could have used my Vongola Gear swords, but somehow, it just feels better training with Kintoki. Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” Gokudera replied, watching with some skepticism as Yamamoto climbed out of bed and started stretching.

“Ha ha! Oh, well.”

“Is this really a good idea right now?” Gokudera asked. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d brought back the bamboo weapon as requested, but—wasn’t Yamamoto still supposed to be resting?

“Heh. I’ll probably get in trouble later, but it’s all right. I couldn’t really sleep, anyway.”

Well. That much, he could understand. “…Me neither.”

Yamamoto grinned. “In that case, would you mind helping me out a little bit?”

“With what?”

“I just need you to activate your Vongola Gear. You have it, right?”

Normally that would have been a given. But this one time, Yamamoto had no idea just how much of a close thing it had actually been.

But he did, in fact, have his Gear again; he’d made a detour to retrieve the Buckle from his room when he had gone to retrieve Kintoki from Yamamoto’s. There was no need for Yamamoto to ever know about the rest. “Yeah,” he said.

Then it caught up to him what a potentially disastrous request that could be. “…You want me to attack you?”

“Not attack!” Yamamoto said hastily. “I just need you to power up some of your flames. You have five different kinds, right? For the Sistema C.A.I.”

Yamamoto knew perfectly well that he did, although he wasn’t about to complain about the ego-stroking just now. “Yeah.”

“Can you activate just one or two of them? But don’t tell me which ones, okay?”

Gokudera debated whether he should argue against this more. But if all he was doing was activating the flames, then it was probably okay. After a moment’s hesitation, he concentrated, and his Vongola Gear whirred to life.

Still grinning, Yamamoto reached up with his free hand and tugged off his eye mask.

“Hey—should you be—?!” Gokudera exclaimed, startled.

“It’s all right,” Yamamoto said, his eyes closed. He tossed the mask onto the bed.

Shit. This had better not end up backfiring. “…Ready?” he asked.

“Yep. Go ahead.”

Since his Storm flames were already activated, Gokudera focused on activating his Rain ring next. At the last second, however, thinking that Rain—being Yamamoto’s own affinity—would be too easy, he deviated, activating Cloud instead.

Yamamoto’s forehead creased slightly. After a moment, though, he smiled again. “You switched?”

Gokudera blinked. He honestly hadn’t expected him to pull it off, at least not so quickly, and especially not picking up such a small detail. “How’d you know?”

“At first, it felt the same as mine, but then it suddenly changed. …Which one did you switch to?”

So he hadn’t been able to tell that part after all. “Cloud.”

“Got it.” Yamamoto squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. “One more time?”

Gokudera obliged. This time, he decided to go with a Sun flame.

Yamamoto’s face was screwed tightly in concentration for a few moments. “…That’s Sun,” he finally said.

“Yeah. …How did you know that one?”

Another smile. “It feels the same as her flame.”

“Her?” Gokudera frowned; there was only one ‘her’ Yamamoto could be talking about just at this moment. “The one who…”

“Yeah.”

“…You’re planning on fighting her again?” Though the answer was obvious; he wasn’t sure why he was troubling to ask.

Yamamoto didn’t even bother to reply. The guilty grin on his face was all the confirmation needed.

Gokudera sighed. “Have I told you lately you’re a fucking idiot?”

If anything, the grin just got bigger. “Not lately, no.”

Gokudera shook his head.

“Are you going to stop me?” Yamamoto asked.

“…I should.” Which wasn’t a ‘yes.’

Honestly, Gokudera knew Yamamoto well enough to know that it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. Once the idiot set his mind on something, it was damned near impossible to try to talk him out of it. That didn’t mean he was thrilled at the idea of him already planning his rematch—while still fucking blind, no less—against someone who had bested him so easily the first time.

But on the other hand, it was Yamamoto. And if Gokudera really had thought it was impossible for him to win, he _would_ have put a stop to it, by force if necessary; he would have even gotten Tsuna involved if it seemed like there was absolutely no getting around it. And never mind how much Yamamoto hated to lose. It absolutely wasn’t worth his life.

But truth be told, Gokudera did not think it was impossible.

He sighed and grabbed the idiot’s arm, ignoring the startled ‘ _hup!_ ’ noise he made at suddenly being led.

“Come on,” he said. “If we’re gonna train seriously, we should do it outside.”

“Heh.” Yamamoto relaxed and allowed himself to be pulled. “Lead the way.”  
  


\---

It was approaching dawn when Reborn finally decided to talk to Tsuna.

He’d been lying on a bench on the veranda outside his bedroom on ever since he had bid Gokudera good night. Reborn had known he wasn’t going to sleep, but he wanted to give him time to think things through.

He wasn’t worried; he had faith in his student. But he could admit to being unexpectedly thrown by the situation, having become so accustomed to their normal flow. It felt strange to hold back. He had been there to guide Tsuna on countless other occasions. But this one time, it was imperative that he let Tsuna reflect on his own. To come to his own conclusions.

He waited until Tsuna finally caught on to his presence and shifted to look at him tiredly. “Reborn.”

Reborn hopped up to settle beside him on the bench. “Are you worried about the plan?” he asked.

Tsuna shook his head. “…The plan is fine. I’m not worried.”

Reborn nodded, and waited for Tsuna to tell him what he had been thinking about.

Finally, Tsuna said quietly, “He almost left again.”

Reborn watched him closely. There was a pensive, preoccupied look in his eyes as he continued. “I wouldn’t have known. I might not have been there to stop him.” He looked deeply troubled by that last thought. “It was just luck.”

Reborn nodded, but still said nothing, waiting for Tsuna to go on.

“I could’ve said something earlier. …But I was afraid. That it might not be the right thing, or that it might have been… I don’t know… weird.” He gave a harsh laugh. “He was in that much pain, and I just did nothing for so long because I was afraid it might be _weird_.” He closed his eyes. “He could have gotten hurt. He could have died. Because I was worrying about the right thing to say.”

He paused for a long moment. Then, in a very quiet voice, he said: “I always do that.”

“You did well tonight, Tsuna,” Reborn said, and he meant it.

“But I should have done it earlier. Maybe if I had, Yamamoto and Ganauche wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“People tend to get hurt no matter what,” Reborn said sagely. “Worrying about what would or wouldn’t have happened doesn’t do any good.”

“I know, but…”

“Yamamoto and Ganauche will be fine.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

Tsuna thumped his head back softly against the bench and sighed. “…Yes.”

“Good,” Reborn said.

“It’s just…” Tsuna sighed again. “I spent so much time agonizing over what to say that I almost didn’t say anything at all. And it’s always like that.” He chewed his lip, looking frustrated. “It shouldn’t take you having to shoot me all the time just to get me to move.”

Reborn was quiet for a moment, considering. “What do you think is happening when I shoot you with the Dying Will Bullet, Tsuna?” he asked him finally. “What do you think changes?”

Tsuna blinked, and looked at him, startled.

“If you’re tired of always holding yourself back… then stop holding back,” Reborn said.

Tsuna blinked again. For a moment it appeared he had been rendered speechless.

Then, finally, he smiled.

“…What kind of advice is that,” he said.

Reborn smiled back. “You should get some rest.”

“…Yeah. All right.”

Not even the decency to thank him, Reborn reflected as Tsuna sat up and finally slid off the bench with a yawn, heading back into the room. Really, he could be such a brat.

His smile grew wider.

He was proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **Additional Notes** – According to [Tiffany Watt Smith](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16688319-the-book-of-human-emotions), there are at least 154 different human emotions. I’m pretty sure that over the course of this chapter, these characters went through every single one of them. And let me tell you, it was exhausting. I am exhausted. But happy.
> 
> Next two chapters will be the finale (split into two parts), which will be followed by an epilogue. Just so you’re aware, since these last few chapters haven’t gone through as much editing as the earlier ones, I might push the update days back by a day or two once again (i.e. Wednesday or Friday instead of Tuesday/Thursday). But we’re almost done. Thank you to everyone who’s read this far.


	10. Target 09 - Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamamoto has a [Zatoichi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zatoichi) moment. Gokudera confronts his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, just wanted to apologize for the delay in this chapter. Since it’s the finale and everything is finally coming together, there were a lot of details to work and rework. I basically underestimated how much time it was going to take. And I figured that if I was going to leave people hanging at any point, it would be kinder to do so with the previous chapter than this one, at least in terms of cliffhangers.
> 
> **Warnings** – _These contain **spoilers** , so skip ahead if you want to avoid._
> 
>   1. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts/behavior.
>   2. Probably should throw in another one of those mind-control warnings, since, yeah. That’s happening again too.
> 


_Anthony Franco is eighteen years old when he first meets Luca DiSanto. Luca is fifteen, and not actually Luca DiSanto at all, but rather Luca Romagna, having gone by his mother’s name since birth._

_Now, though, Luca’s mother is dead. And that’s the reason why Anthony is presently here at her house in Catania, waiting for her son to return._

_Anthony is a contract killer, and very good at what he does. Despite his relative youth, he has already begun to earn a name for himself in the underworld. Now his Boss, Giovanni DiSanto, has assigned him to “take care of” his illegitimate son, whose existence has been kept under wraps for the past decade and a half._

_Anthony is fiddling around with a cigarette lighter when Luca finally arrives. His key turns in the lock, and he walks in unsuspectingly. Then he freezes as he sees Anthony, waiting for him in the kitchen._

_Anthony takes the opportunity to observe. Luca is short for his age, a trait that might have made him seem younger than his fifteen years, were it not for the tired look in his eyes. He is also, Anthony notes, bloodied and bruised all over. His clothing and jacket are torn as well, which is particularly surprising, given that he’s just come from his mother’s funeral._

_“Hello, Luca,” Anthony says._

_Luca swallows just a bit, but he puts on a brave face. “Who are you?” he asks._

_“That’s not important,” Anthony replies._

_“…Do you work for Danatoni too?”_

_Danatoni? The Danatoni family is a nothing group operating out of Catania. Anthony has heard of them, because he makes a point of being knowledgeable on every famiglia in Sicily, but they’re a small-time gang, barely a blip on the DiSanto’s radar. “No,” he says. “I work for your father.”_

_Luca’s eyes widen. “My… my father?”_

_“That’s right.”_

_A range of emotions plays out on the kid’s face over the next few moments. He looks surprised, and then for the briefest of seconds, hopeful. But then understanding seems to sink in. The hope in his eyes is replaced first by hurt, and then dismay. And then, finally, resignation._

_“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” he says._

_“It’s nothing personal,” Anthony replies._

_He expects Luca to freak out, or try to run. To his surprise, however, instead the kid just sighs._

_“…Just get it over with, then.”_

_“That’s it?” Anthony says, a little startled. “You’re okay with going out just like that?”_

_Luca lets out a short, hopeless laugh. “It’s not like I have anything left to live for, anyway.”_

_“That’s a pretty grim thing to say for someone your age.”_

_“Just do it,” Luca repeats, looking more determined now. “I don’t care.”_

_Anthony frowns and leans back, crossing his arms. He’s not holding his gun yet, and makes no move to draw it. “There’s no rush.”_

_Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if this was a good idea, talking to the kid like this. He’s aware that he has a tendency to be a bit sentimental at times. He’s gotten in trouble for it before, and usually he takes steps to offset it on the more important jobs._

_At first, he’d been prepared to do the same for this one. But then he’d considered the fact that the Boss was fully aware of his sentimentality, and yet had chosen him for this assignment anyway. And he’d wondered if maybe, just maybe, that hadn’t been intentional._

_As a result, Anthony had already decided ahead of time that if the kid freaked out in any way—if he got scared and tried to run, or pleaded for his life—he would let him go. Hitman or not, murdering kids wasn’t something that sat particularly well with him, and if the Boss had sent him here knowing that, he figured it meant that he might be having second thoughts, as well._

_So he’d been prepared for that. But not for this: this sullen, bitter, dispirited child, already resigned to his death. This, he isn’t sure how to react to._

_There’s also the curious matter of the kid’s not-inconsiderable injuries and generally disheveled appearance. Anthony inspects him again, a little more closely. “You been fighting?” he asks._

_Luca eyes him warily. “…I borrowed money from some guys a while back. To help with my mom’s medical bills. They got mad because I hadn’t paid them back. Not that it… matters anymore, anyway.”_

_Anthony scrutinizes him silently for a long moment. “How much do you owe them?” he says at last._

_Luca blinks, looking startled. “What?”_

_“How much was it?”_

_“I don’t…” The kid’s brow furrows in confusion. “Why does it matter?”_

_“Your father’s a mafia boss. There’s a certain code they all have to adhere to, as men of honor. Part of that code involves making sure their debts are paid.” This is true more in theory than practice, but the kid doesn’t need to know that._

_He doesn’t reply, though. He’s still eyeing Anthony, looking mistrustful._

_“How much?” Anthony presses._

_“…It’s already been paid,” the kid replies finally._

_There’s a strange quality to his tone that gives Anthony pause and makes him come to a sudden realization._

_“…That’s not your blood, is it?”_

_Something flashes in the kid’s eyes. “Enough,” he says. “Just do it already.”_

_“I don’t like being rushed,” Anthony says._

_“Do it,” the kid repeats, insistently._

_Anthony doesn’t move._

_Something in the kid seems to snap. “I_ said _, do it!”_

_And for all of his calm, all his experience, Anthony is not at all prepared for what happens next._

_All of a sudden, his arm moves of its own accord, reaching into the holster hidden under his suit jacket, pulling out the gun, and aiming it squarely at Luca’s forehead. It all happens in an instant. The trigger, however, is not pulled. Instead, he freezes. And he stays that way._

_Anthony blinks. Then blinks again._

_Finally, comprehension dawns on him._

_“Shit,” he says. “You really are his son, aren’t you?”_

_He’s lived in the mafia world since childhood, since he was younger than Luca is now, and yet Anthony can still count on one hand the number of times he’s seen something that truly surprised him. His first and only time seeing the Consummate Command in action under the control of Luca’s father Giovanni was one of those occasions._

_And this, he thinks… this is probably another._

_Luca is breathing heavily. Anger flashes in his gaze. “He’s no father of mine. He never has been.”_

_Anthony frowns. His index finger, he notes, removed from his control, has still not pulled the trigger._

_“Go on,” says Luca. “Finish it.”_

_Understanding hits Anthony in a flash. He purses his lips carefully. “If you want to die so bad, then why don’t you just finish it yourself? You’re in control, after all.”_

_Luca doesn’t answer, only glares at Anthony all the more fiercely, still breathing hard._

_“Hmm?” Anthony says questioningly, raising an eyebrow._

_The kid flinches, just a bit, but enough so that even if Anthony hadn’t already been certain it was all a bluff, that would have put him over the top._

_Then all at once the control is released, and just like that Anthony’s arm belongs to him and him alone once again._

_He gives a short laugh. “Thought so. So it’s like that, huh?”_

_The kid doesn’t answer, avoiding his eyes. And watching him, Anthony makes a final decision._

_“All right,” he says. “Change of plans.” He twirls the gun around on his finger, and then slips it back into its holster._

_Luca watches, looking suspicious but, also, as if he doesn’t understand at all. “I…” he says. “I don’t…”_

_“Today’s your lucky day,” Anthony says with a smile._

_“But you said… my father…”_

_“I’m making a different call,” is all the explanation Anthony gives. “I’ll talk to your old man. He’ll understand.”_

_“He doesn’t care,” Luca says. He still seems confused, but whenever it comes to his father, his tone is certain._

_“Well, it’s like I said. As a man of honor, he has a responsibility to pay his debts.” He eyes Luca again, thoughtfully. “And it seems to me like he owes you a rather large one,” he says at last._

_“He…” Luca looks at the floor, shaking his head. “He won’t.”_

_“Don’t worry about that,” Anthony says firmly. “I told you, I’ll talk to him.”_

_For a long moment the kid is silent, the hesitation in his eyes seemingly warring with a type of deep longing._

_Finally, Anthony takes a step closer. “Listen, kid. You can trust me, okay?”_

_“…I don’t even know who you are,” the kid says._

_“My name’s Anthony.” He holds out his hand. “Anthony Franco.”_

_And, after another long moment, Luca finally takes it._   
  


\---

The DiSanto family castle sat nestled in the mountains just west of the city, grand, sweeping, and opulent, its pointed spires reaching elegantly into the twilight sky. Oversized, cathedral-like windows lined its stone walls. It was massive and awe-inspiring, like something out of a children’s fairy tale. And indeed, over the years this place had housed its share of demons as vile and twisted as any from those stories.

Gokudera made his way up the winding mountain road toward his childhood home. Just up ahead, the path passed underneath the massive stone entry arch at the front of the estate. Beyond that, the doors to the castle were visible on the far side of the stately driveway loop.

Dozens of DiSanto men dressed in suits and sunglasses stood guard all along the sides of the path. He eyed them closely, aware of just how integral their presence was to the plan. If Anthony Franco hadn’t held up his end of their deal… if he’d been deceiving them…

No. He couldn’t think about that. Both Tsuna and Reborn were certain that the man could be trusted. And Gokudera trusted them. It had to work. There was no other option.

None of the men made any move to stop him, which concerned him at first. If they weren’t careful, they could give up the game before it had even started. But then, he realized—Luca must have given orders to allow him through.

He would, after all, be expecting him.

As he passed through the archway and entered the courtyard, he found himself assaulted by a rush of memories. Everything, even the smell of the trees, was familiar. He could see the balcony, on the north side of the building, where Shamal had first showed him the dynamite trick that would one day become his rocket bomb attack. A dozen meters away, he could just make out a thicket of trees where he’d once hid (to no avail) from Bianchi and her latest batch of poison cooking.

This had been his home. He’d lived here and played here. And he had suffered here, also.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why he had been so compelled to come back. Out of all the plans they could have made, all the actions they could have taken, there had to be numerous options which didn’t involve him impulsively waltzing headlong into what was unquestionably a very dangerous scenario. After everything Tsuna had done to stop him from leaving, there was more than a little irony in his brazenly choosing to return here nonetheless. There were other ways, and certainly ones involving less risk.

But it wasn’t just about taking Luca down. It was about seeing this through. And he didn’t want to just sit back and let others handle it. He was tired of being afraid. He wanted, _needed_ , to let it go.

And the only way he could do that was by confronting Luca one last time.

As he approached the entrance, the great wooden doors opened, and his brother stepped out. He stepped forward as Gokudera drew near.

They stopped about a dozen feet from each other. Gokudera felt the evening wind blowing in his hair, and a shiver ran quietly down his spine. It was only the wind, he told himself. He would not fall apart this time.

This time, he was going to end it. One way or the other.  
  


\---

Yamamoto stood waiting on the steps of the fountain.

He could not see, and so would have been unable to describe the place if asked. He could hear the water, but could not see the dozen marble statues from which it poured, stone heads lined all around the fountain’s lower reservoir. He could feel the cool marble of the railing beneath his outstretched left hand, but couldn’t see the stairs leading up to the fountain’s raised upper ring, and its circular central basin. He could feel, too, the approaching night air, but could not witness the surrounding lamp posts blinking into life, casting a golden glow and reflecting off the water’s surfaces.

And he could not see the woman approaching him now, but he could feel her presence; the vibrant, flickering energy of the Sun waves that ran and flowed all throughout her body, as vital and brilliant as his own Rain energy.

The Ninth’s men had dropped him off. They were still waiting nearby—even if he hadn’t been able to sense their _hadou_ , he would have still expected it—but he knew they would not interfere unless there was a desperate need. He didn’t intend for that to happen.

He was aware that coming out here might not have been the greatest idea he’d ever had, but it was something he had to do nonetheless. And strangely, no one else had argued. It felt like they understood, and for that, he was grateful.

Although he had wavered for some time over wanting to be there to help Tsuna and Gokudera. The other two had revealed their plan—well, Reborn’s plan, really—to him earlier that day, and while he had faith that they could and would pull it off—because that’s what they always did—it didn’t quite feel right, not being there by their side in the moment of truth. But both of them had rightfully pointed out that given Luca’s abilities, he would likely be more of a liability than anything else. There wasn’t much he _could_ do to help them out, and conversely there were a lot of ways that his presence there could go drastically wrong.

No, like it or not, he was out of this fight now. And to ensure that this never happened again, he needed to become stronger.

And that, more than anything else, was why he had come here.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come find me or not,” he said as Bella approached the steps.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come out to be found,” came the reply.

“Heh,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense, I guess. But I just felt like I had to, you know?”

“There’s little point to the two of us fighting here now,” she observed. “One way or another, this will be decided elsewhere.”

“Then why did you come?” he asked, curious. Even it was what he had been hoping for, he had to admit that it certainly wouldn’t have surprised him if she hadn’t.

There was a thoughtful pause as Bella reached the foot of the steps.

“Because you don’t strike me as an irrational boy, Yamamoto Takeshi,” she said at last.

“Heh,” he said, not understanding at all. “What?”

“Most men are, you know,” she said, and there was a faintly reflective quality to her tone now. “Especially swordsmen. They don’t know when to back down. Even if they come up against something they can’t defeat. They come at it again and again, and usually pay for it with their lives.”

Another pause. “And they consider that to be honorable. They don’t consider what a waste it is, or think about those they may be leaving behind.”

He frowned slightly. The way she said it almost made it sound like she was speaking from experience. For a moment he wondered exactly what Bella’s story was.

But there was no time to dwell on it as she continued. “People like that exhaust me,” she said flatly. “…But you don’t strike me as being that type. If there was no chance of you defeating me, if it was certain death, I don’t think you would have done that to your people. Not for something as stupid as pride. So, since you’re here, it must mean that you think you can win.”

There was one last pause, and then the sound of a sword being drawn.

“In other words, if you’re here to face me again, it means that you’ve learned how to see.”

And although Yamamoto couldn’t see it, he was absolutely sure that she was smiling.

He followed suit, both in expression, and in drawing his own blade.

“Well?” Bella pressed. It seemed she was waiting for an answer.

“Heh. I hope so,” he replied.

And he could feel the flare of her Sun _hadou_ firing up, clearer than any shifting of a stance or twitch of muscle movement. It was like reading a map. Her wave energy was telling him exactly what she meant to do next.

_(I can see your intent.)_

Yamamoto grinned as Bella charged.  
  


\---

“Hayato,” Luca said. “Have you made your decision?”

Gokudera took a steadying breath, willing himself to focus. This would not go like their last encounter.

“Yeah,” he said. “I have.”

“Really?” Luca said mildly, his tone making it clear that it was not a question at all. “The wrong one, then.”

In spite of his determination—or maybe because of it—there was a restive energy coursing uneasily through Gokudera, made all the more potent by the ominous way that Luca spoke. Rather than try to resist it, he instead allowed it to run its course. It didn’t matter if Luca knew that he was nervous—in fact, if anything it probably helped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here, just like you wanted.”

“Don’t bother,” Luca said dismissively. “I already know you’re not alone. Did you think we wouldn’t be able to detect the Dying Will flame energy as you approached?”

He made a noise that was half-scoff and half-sigh. “I’m disappointed, Hayato. You didn’t believe me, I guess. But you’ve made a mistake.”

Gokudera felt his nervousness start to dispel into a furious indignation. “You’re the one making the mistake. You declared war on the most powerful family in Italy, all so you could satisfy your own fucked-up need for… _revenge_ , or whatever, for something I never had any control over.” 

It still hurt just to think about. It wasn’t like he had asked for it. And it wasn’t like ruining Gokudera’s life could have ever somehow fixed Luca’s own. Gokudera wondered if Luca actually believed that, or if the grudge he bore against their father even now was so sweeping that Gokudera had simply been caught in the crossfire.

Him, and everything else.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he said. “All so you can have your damn eye for an eye.”

“I don’t care,” Luca replied without the slightest hesitation.

And even though Gokudera had suspected as much already, the starkness with which Luca admitted it, levelly and without even a hint of remorse, was still startling. Even surrounded by his own people, he apparently wasn’t going to deny it.

“You think I haven’t thought this through,” Luca said. “That I’m being reckless, not thinking about the consequences. But the truth is, I don’t care.” There was a caustic, erratic hint of unbalance in his tone as he continued. “I used to think things would be all right, if I could just finally take my rightful place as the heir to the family.” He let out a quiet laugh. “Do you know… it didn’t change anything.”

He locked eyes with Gokudera. “So I don’t care, anymore, Hayato. But I _will_ make you understand.”

Gokudera looked back, unafraid.

“I understand,” he replied. “You think you have nothing to lose.”

And for a moment, that genuinely made him feel sorry for him.

Luca was eyeing him coldly. “Unlike you,” he said.

“…Yeah,” Gokudera admitted after a moment. “You’re right.”

And then he allowed the corner of his mouth to turn upwards.

“It’s like you said. I’m not alone.”

And on that cue, all of a sudden a wall of heavy force—so strong Gokudera could almost feel it from where he stood, even though he was outside its sphere of influence—slammed into the older man, driving him to his knees. Luca grunted under the impact, and then again as the blast increased, driving in deeper, the gravitational pressure flattening the ground and forming a small crater in the middle of the drive.

Luca gritted his teeth as the spiraling patterns of Tsuna’s Oath Flame coiled around him. For a moment, Gokudera held his breath, wondering if it was possible that this could actually work. Could it really be over so quickly?

Then Luca snapped his head toward him, and suddenly Gokudera’s legs and arms were moving of their own accord. He turned to the DiSanto soldier standing closest to him, reached into his jacket, took the pistol from the holster there, and held it up to his own head.

The crushing energy bearing down on Luca suddenly seemed to waver, although it didn’t dissipate. Luca smiled grimly.

“Well? What’s it going to be, Vongola?”

There was no response. Then Gokudera felt his own fingers moving and heard the pistol cock next to his ear.

“You have five seconds,” Luca said loudly, but calmly. “Then he blows his brains out. One… two…”

Gokudera felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck.

Then all at once the gravitational force receded, before vanishing altogether. Luca slowly climbed to his feet, looking slightly unsteady but otherwise not too much worse for wear.

“Not good enough,” he said, a little louder now. “Show yourself,” he commanded as he took a few steps, glancing around. His voice grew louder still. “Unless you don’t think I’ll do it. I admit I’m not sure myself, so let’s find out.” He shot a glance toward Gokudera. “Three… four—”

“Wait,” Tsuna’s voice cut in suddenly.

And there he was, dropping in from his hidden location above, forehead and gloves lit with the bright orange flames of his Hyper Dying Will mode.

Gokudera closed his eyes for a moment and tried to control the sudden franticness of his own heartbeat. This was it. Tsuna was here, facing off with Luca. They were all in, now, past the point of no return.

Once again he forced the fear to run its course. He couldn’t keep thinking about the what-ifs. He had chosen to do this, and so had Tsuna. And both of them had known full well what they were getting into.

He needed to have faith. To trust in the person who had showed him how to trust.

Even if things were about to get much worse before they got better.

“There you are,” Luca said, narrowing his eyes in Tsuna’s direction. He nodded once, indicating the flames on Tsuna’s forehead, then inclined his head in Gokudera’s direction. “Power down now, please.”

Tsuna glared, but did as he was told. Gokudera watched, noting that Luca hadn’t taken control of Tsuna yet. Then again, given the speed with which he had taken hold of Ganauche the previous day, there was no question of whether he’d be able to possess him at a moment’s notice if need be. Clearly he felt confident that there was no need to do so, for now.

“Well, then,” Luca said. “Welcome to my home, Vongola Tenth.”  
  


\---

Yamamoto sidestepped Bella’s attack and parried the blow, clasping his own blade in Bella’s own trademark reverse grip. He felt the subtle change in her flames as she came about.

She was impressed, he realized. The shifting flame patterns didn’t just reveal her fighting intent; they displayed other emotions, too. The warmer feelings like pride and passion burned more intensely, while calmer emotions burned at a cooler degree.

And he could see it. And while at first he hadn’t known what to look for, and afterwards had been almost overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of input as he gradually became aware of this once-hidden world all around him, he was getting used to it now, and it was getting easier and easier to interpret by the minute.

It was incredible. Each individual life around him burned with its own Dying Will flame, each with its own color and varying intensity. When he was fully tuned in, like this, it was almost like viewing the world through heat-vision goggles. He wondered if this was what being Superman felt like.

“Very good,” came Bella’s voice. He could see the shimmer of excitement in her golden Sun flames.

He laughed and moved to counter the next blow as well. Then he jumped, moved by pure instinct, seeing the Sun flames run down her arm and through her sword as she moved to slice at his feet.

She switched to a regular grip; he could see the blade’s silhouette outlined in flames as clearly as if he were looking at the real, actual thing. She slashed toward his head and he blocked. Then her right hand abruptly let go of her blade and folded to hook around his blocking arm, trapping it in place, while her left hand caught the weapon as it fell. Having locked him into position, she brought her left hand, now holding the sword, upwards to strike.

But just as she did so, he swung at her with his own left hand, having materialized his second sword blade at the same instant that she’d switched her sword hand. She was forced to release his arm in order to dodge as he swept the blade behind her feet.

Not missing a beat, Bella passed her weapon back to her right hand and spun it around, returning it to the reverse grip position. She came at him again, this time swinging the blade up past his shoulder, and then cutting down at a 45 degree angle, aiming to slice open his chest. He parried with both of his swords in an x block, then angled the blades together in a pincer fashion, attempting to pry her blade from her hands. But before he could manage it, she leaped back, landing a few feet away.

The whole exchange had probably taken no more than ten seconds, but he found himself panting as though he’d just run ten kilometers. “Wow,” he laughed. “That was intense.”

“You’re very good,” Bella acknowledged. “But you’re not fighting back. Are you afraid?”

Yamamoto grinned. “Not really. I guess… I’m just waiting to see what you can really do.”

There was an exhilarated shine to her Sun flames, and he guessed that she was smiling again.

“In that case,” she said, “let me show you.”  
  


\---

“…You’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” Gokudera’s brother said, almost thoughtfully. “I suppose you are still a child.”

Tsuna glared back at him. Despite no longer being in his Hyper Dying Will mode, he strangely didn’t feel afraid or intimidated in the slightest. All he felt was anger.

This was the man who had caused Gokudera so much anguish. This was the man who had scared him so badly that he’d almost left them—twice. It nagged at Tsuna even now. It had been entirely too close.

But they had moved past that now. This time, they were ready for him. Even if that hadn’t been the case, though, Tsuna thought that he himself was past the point where he could ever have been frightened by this man. He didn’t care what Luca DiSanto could do, or what he was capable of. All he cared about was making sure that after today, he would never be able to hurt Gokudera again.

“Let Gokudera-kun go,” he said.

Luca raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re making demands? Understand the situation that you’re in, Vongola.”

And then suddenly, almost before he was aware of what was going on, Tsuna was flung into the ground, almost in the exact same manner that Luca had been only a few minutes earlier. Only there was no external force buckling Tsuna. He hadn’t actually been thrown; he had in fact slammed his _own_ body into the concrete with swift, dizzying force.

It took him a moment to realize what had just occurred. It was him, but not him. It was one of the most confusing things he had ever experienced, and for a moment the total disorientation almost blocked out the pain. Distantly, he heard Gokudera’s voice crying out: “Boss!”

Then someone was approaching him, and suddenly Tsuna climbed back to his feet.

He mentally tried to sort himself out. He was pretty sure his hands, knees, and face were scraped, and possibly a little bloodied, but otherwise he felt all right. He had experienced much worse in other battles. It was disconcerting and a little unsettling to not be in control of himself, but this had been expected, after all. He just needed to keep a cool head.

He eyed Luca steadily as the other man came to a halt just a few feet away.

“You see,” Luca said, “unfortunately for you, my brother and I had an arrangement, and he’s just flagrantly violated it.”

He glanced over his shoulder to where Gokudera stood, eyes wide. “Isn’t that right, Hayato? Didn’t I promise you?”

Gokudera said nothing. Luca turned to face him fully. Tsuna couldn’t see Luca’s expression, but he could see Gokudera swallow roughly.

“Give me the gun,” Luca said, and Gokudera stepped forward, hand outstretched to proffer the weapon. Luca took it, and turned it over idly in his hands, as he turned to address Tsuna once again.

“You see, I told him that if he didn’t join me, I would kill you.” He ran a finger over the weapon’s trigger with great deliberation. “So…”

Then he suddenly clicked the gun and pointed it at Tsuna’s forehead, prompting an alarmed cry from Gokudera.

“It’s nothing personal,” Luca said, ignoring his brother entirely. “Except… maybe it is.”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Gokudera shouted suddenly.

Luca shot him an unrepentant look. “It didn’t have to go this way. You could have said yes, when I first asked you. But you’ve always been willful.”

“He won’t join you,” Tsuna said with sudden fierceness. “Even if you do kill me.”

He expected Luca to respond with more cool indifference. To his surprise, however, when he replied, there was no trace of sarcasm or scorn in his voice; only a hollow, fatalistic acceptance.

“I know,” he said. And then he smiled, in an empty way that matched his tone. “He hates me. Because I convinced our father to keep poisoning him, all those years ago. And because I chased him out from his home, and showed him what the world really thought of him. Because I hated him too, you see. That’s what really bonds us.”

He looked at Gokudera almost sadly, but when he spoke again, his voice held a dangerous, unstable edge. “There’s no mending that, now.”

He eyed Gokudera for a moment longer, and Tsuna didn’t at all like the uneasy expression that had suddenly appeared on Gokudera’s face.

Finally, Luca turned back to Tsuna, and it was plain that the brief flash of melancholy had passed. “So, just so we’re clear. This has nothing to do with persuading him to join me. This is just spite.”

“ _Luca_ —”

“Don’t worry, Hayato,” Luca cut Gokudera off. “I’m not going to kill him.”

He lowered the gun… and then looked back at his brother.

“I’m going to make you do it.”

And Tsuna watched anxiously as Gokudera’s expression shifted from unease to horror as he involuntarily stepped forward and took the gun from Luca’s hand.

They had prepared for this, Tsuna thought, willing himself to stay calm. But it was hard, when Gokudera looked so afraid. He didn’t say anything, but his breathing was thick and ragged as he pressed the barrel to Tsuna’s head.

“Any last words?” Luca said.

Tsuna swallowed, not looking away from Gokudera’s eyes.

He knew Gokudera well enough to know when he was acting. This wasn’t that. Even though Gokudera was as aware of the plan as he was, this was still his worst fear being realized, literally being acted out with him helpless to do anything about it. Of course he would be panicked. Of course he would be scared.

“Boss,” Gokudera said quietly. “Tsuna…”

“Gokudera-kun,” he said, with as much reassurance as he could muster, still not breaking eye contact. He couldn’t let himself be afraid, not now. “It’s all right.”

Gokudera stared back. There were tears brimming in his eyes but he blinked them away.

But then his eyes narrowed determinedly. And just for a moment, Tsuna saw a flash of something within him. It was that spark that had been missing ever since the night of the graduation ceremony. That stubborn, dogged, unrelenting spirit that he knew so well.

Somehow, right at this darkest, most hopeless moment, he had found it again.

Tsuna smiled.

And then Gokudera pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistles*
> 
> …Yeah, so as you can see, this is a considerably more over-the-top cliffhanger than the previous chapter’s “Reborn is proud of Tsuna” moment, lol. Hopefully it won’t take me a week to get the last chapter up. I’m aiming for Monday, but if it doesn’t happen I apologize. It’s just me trying to make sure the ending is satisfying enough, after all of this.
> 
> And the Vongola really have a knack for coming up with literally the most dramatic plans possible. Probably a very obvious plan, too, for anyone who knows their MO.


	11. Target 10 - Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finale. The Vongola's plan goes awry. Luca loses control. Sacrifices are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies to anyone I lured in with my initially consistent updates, only to drop the floor out from under you just when we were getting to the climax. No excuses; I just overestimated how quickly I’d be able to get the last few parts of this out.
> 
> Anyway, I know you probably just want to get right into it so I’ll shut up.
> 
> **Warnings** – _These contain **spoilers** , so skip ahead if you want to avoid._
> 
>   1. Horrific injury warning. I _really_ don’t want to spoil things, but think along the lines of some of the more shocking moments in the series (particularly around the Inheritance Arc, and near the end of the Arco Arc).
>   2. More of that mind control business.
>   3. ~~Character death…?~~
> 


  
_“R-Reborn-san!” Gokudera sputters in shock as the tiny hitman beams at him and Tsuna from his perch on the edge of the small garden fountain._

_“How long were you…?” Tsuna says with an exasperated look. His hand is resting on his chest, and he looks as though he’s trying to recover from a near-heart attack._

_“That’s not important,” Reborn replies as though he didn’t just spring on them out of nowhere. “Right now, we need to focus on the DiSanto situation. But first things first,” he says as he walks over. And then, to Gokudera’s surprise, he looks right up at him._

_“Gokudera. Have you calmed down, now?”_

_Gokudera feels heat rushing to his face as he realizes Reborn must have secretly witnessed most, if not all, of his breakdown a few minutes earlier._

_“Yeah,” he says._

_“And you won’t try to leave the family again?”_

_There is no rebuke in Reborn’s voice; yet the question hits Gokudera like a slap in the face regardless. He glances down at his feet, all of a sudden feeling deeply ashamed. “No,” he says quietly, shaking his head and shoving down the urge to drop down on all fours begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Don’t apologize.”_

_That catches him off guard; he looks at Reborn in surprise. Next to him, Tsuna looks startled as well._

_“You were putting the family’s needs above your own,” Reborn says simply. “That’s something your brother has yet to learn.”_

_Gokudera blinks at the sudden reversal. It never occurred to him to think of it in those terms. His first instinct is to argue. Of course he puts the family first—it’s only natural. But that hardly seems to matter when his good intentions have so far caused more problems than they’ve helped to solve. He can’t help but feel that Reborn—just like Yamamoto and Tsuna—is being a little too forgiving._

_But as far as Luca goes, he realizes as he reflects back on it—that much is true. He thinks back to that meeting with the Ninth and his Guardians; about their debate as to whether they should go to war with Luca’s family._

_And for the first time, it strikes him just how precarious Luca’s position actually is. He’d been so overwhelmed by the idea of what Luca could do to harm him and the people he cared about, he’d overlooked the fact that Luca and_ his _people weren’t immune from harm either. They had taken on the Vongola. And everyone in the mafia world knows what happens when you cross the Vongola._

_As a Boss, Luca should have been thinking about that. But it doesn’t surprise Gokudera that he seems to have dismissed it._

_He realizes suddenly that Reborn is watching him. And all at once, it hits him what his plan must be._

_“You think his people will turn on him,” he says._

_Reborn smiles. “I talked to two of them earlier tonight. Tsuna knows,” he says, looking over at him._

_“Ah…” Tsuna says, looking surprised and not quite convinced. “Those two? You really think they’d go against him?”_

_“Anthony Franco is Luca’s Consigliere,” Reborn says. “It’s his job to keep the Boss advised of any outside threats. It’s a given that he’s already warned Luca about this. But it seems like his warnings have been rebuffed so far.”_

_“That guy… he seemed really loyal, though,” Tsuna says, still looking doubtful. “Are you really sure?”_

_“His loyalty is precisely why he’ll do it,” Reborn replies. “After all, look at what Gokudera was willing to do for you.”_

_Once again, Gokudera finds the ground very suddenly interesting._

_“That’s…” Tsuna trails off, also looking awkward._

_Finally Gokudera says, with some uncertainty, “If that’s true… that would definitely be enough to piss him off. But even if it is, it’s still only half a plan, isn’t it?”_

_“That’s true,” Reborn agrees, more cheerfully than expected. “But the rest isn’t as difficult as you two think.”_

_As they look at him questioningly, he continues. “If you think about it, Luca DiSanto has only had two advantages to begin with. The first was Gokudera. He used your fear of him in order to manipulate you.”_

_Once again Gokudera feels a deep flush of guilt. But Reborn doesn’t dwell on the issue, and instead presses forward. “The other advantage he had is that the current Vongola Boss isn’t the type of person to just roll over into the DiSanto camp and wipe them all out. Isn’t that right, Tsuna?”_

_Tsuna looks uncomfortable, but nods. “…Yeah. Maybe it’s stupid. But I don’t… I don’t want to do it like that.”_

_“That’s fine,” Reborn says. “So, now, let’s look to our own advantages. We have an inside man, first of all, once I settle things with Anthony Franco. Second, we know Luca isn’t invulnerable, and his powers can be weakened and possibly broken altogether. Right?”_

_“Right,” Gokudera says hesitantly._

_“And third… we know what Luca wants. Don’t we, Gokudera?”_

_Gokudera startles. Reborn is looking him right in the eye._

_For a moment he freezes, put on the spot. He opens his mouth to ask him to clarify—but. If Reborn has already figured it out, then he should know too, shouldn’t he?_

_What Luca wants…_

_He thinks back to their confrontation. At first, Luca had wanted him to join him. But when Gokudera had refused, he’d been…_

_Angry? Yes, definitely, but… was it just that?_

_“Think,” Reborn prods encouragingly._

__(You and I, we’re the same.) __

_“He wants me…”_

__(None of them understand what it’s like… But I understand that. You understand it. In that way, we are brothers, whether you want to admit it or not.) __

_Recognition finally sets in._

_“He wants me to feel like he feels.”_

_That’s it. That’s what it is. Even as far back as that first piano recital. That’s what it’s always been. Transferring whatever pain he felt onto Gokudera. Making him experience the same feelings he’d experienced. Tormenting him, terrorizing him, casting him out._

_“But I don’t,” he says suddenly. “That pain… I understand it now, but… he’s twisted. He kept talking about how the world was against him and me, how that was never going to change. He wanted me to go through what he did, and he thought that after all of that… I’d be like him. I guess. …But I’m not. Because…”_

_He looks over at Tsuna, and feels a sudden strength flowing into him that he can’t describe._

_“…Because I found you.”_

_Then, as the impulsive rush of bold, clumsy honesty fades, as quickly as it had come on, he droops his head and glances away._

_Reborn makes a nonchalant humming noise, sounding pleased._

_Gokudera clears his throat, and glances over at Tsuna again. He’s wearing a very gentle smile._

_“I don’t think it’s just that,” he says. “I mean, I’m glad, but. It’s also because you’re strong, Gokudera-kun.”_

_He blushes, and wants to argue that that’s giving him too much credit. The truth is, he doesn’t know for sure. All he knows is that he’s unbelievably grateful that Tsuna came into his life._

_“So your brother thinks that you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Reborn says, breaking into his thoughts. “And either he wants to punish you for that, or he wants to keep pushing until you finally do break. Either way, it means we know his goal._

_“And not just that,” he continues, “but we know his MO, as well. Rather than hurting Gokudera directly, he’s decided to go after Tsuna. He’s the type of man to go for theatrics, isn’t he?”_

_Gokudera thinks back to Luca’s threat. “…He said he’d make me watch,” he says quietly._

_Reborn nods. “He wants to make it hurt. And he seems to have a flair for irony as well. That much is clear from what happened to Ganauche.”_

__(You were going to shoot me with that.) __

_“So based on that,” Reborn concludes, “if you and Tsuna show up tomorrow night and go against his ultimatum, we know exactly what he’ll try to do.”_

_Gokudera thinks back to Ganauche. About the way he’d been made to shoot himself with his own gun. And he thinks even further back, to the servants on that night in the castle so many years ago, and how Luca had ordered the girl not to speak, and then made her slit her own throat._

_A pit settles itself deep into his stomach as he realizes that Reborn is right—he knows exactly what Luca’s response will be._

_“…He’ll make me do it.”_

_“Exactly,” Reborn says._

_Gokudera swallows and meets Tsuna’s eyes. The thought is almost too horrible to process._

_“But… can we really plan for something like that?” Tsuna says, unsettled._

_But when they both turn back to Reborn there is not even the slightest hint of concern. On the contrary; yet again, he is smiling._

_“We’re not just planning for it,” Reborn says. “We’re counting on it.”_  
  
  


\---

 

Tsuna fell limply to the ground, and Gokudera’s heart plummeted to his stomach.

There was blood. Not much. But enough. And as Tsuna lay there motionless, he really did look dead. Gokudera felt the tears that he had blinked away building up again, but he held them back.

Luca stood a few feet away, watching intently. Watching _him_. Waiting to see his reaction.

Gokudera forced himself to exhale.

And then a light suddenly appeared directly above Tsuna, and took the shape of a boy. It reached into Tsuna’s chest, took hold of something, and pulled.

And like a soul freshly liberated from its flesh and blood shell, Tsuna himself emerged as the body faded away.

“Re… _born_!”

And as Tsuna clenched his fists, the orange flame on his forehead burst to life, and a rush of energy swept through the area. Gokudera felt it roll over him like a surging tide. This was the strength of Tsuna’s spirit. The vast, raw, roaring determination of the purest form of Dying Will.

“ _Save Gokudera-kun as if I were to die!_ ”

Gokudera flushed slightly at that sentiment, so close to and yet critically different from the _defeat Luca_ that he might have expected instead.

He swallowed back the sudden rush of emotion as he felt a fire starting to ignite in his own spirit.

And as Tsuna turned to face Luca, the gloves of his Vongola Gear shattered and faded away, and another massive surge of power rippled through the air, this one dwarfing the last. Suddenly the air was filled with the sounds of pots, statues, and even trees splintering and shattering in its wake.

Gokudera could feel the nearly unbearable heat emanating from those relentless, unyielding Sky flames. But it didn’t burn. It felt… electric.

_(“We know your brother will try to force you to kill Tsuna,” Reborn said. “So all you have to do is shoot him with this.” He held up a small bullet._

_“Is that…?” Gokudera asked._

_“It’s not the Dying Will Bullet,” Reborn said. “Or the Rebuke Bullet.”_

_“Ehh?” Tsuna said, looking a little nervous. “Then what is it?”_

_Reborn smiled. “Leon made it for you. With this, you’ll be able to go directly into Ultimate Dying Will Mode.”)_

Gokudera grinned.

And then suddenly he heard Luca’s voice.

“You…”

And Gokudera found himself turning to face his brother. There were traces of residual astonishment on Luca’s face still, but shock was slowly giving way to outrage as understanding set in.

Gokudera arched an eyebrow, still smirking. There was a newfound—or regained—boldness growing within him all of a sudden.

“You wanted me to shoot him,” he said.

“The Dying Will Bullet.” And now that fury that they had worked so hard to incite was definitely mounting. Gokudera could see it in Luca’s eyes, but as of now it still seethed just below the surface. “How did you—”

“You’re pathetic, Luca DiSanto.”

Luca whipped around. Tsuna was standing calmly, a look of unflinching resolve in his eyes.

“You’re so consumed by your own darkness, you literally can’t see beyond it. You don’t know how to escape, so the only thing you can do is try to drag down others into it.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re—”

“But it didn’t work, did it? Because Gokudera-kun is stronger than that. No matter what you did, it still wasn’t enough to break his spirit. And the most pitiful thing of all is that you still don’t understand why.”

“ _Enough!_ ” Luca thundered, and suddenly he turned and seized the gun from Gokudera’s hand. He aimed it at Tsuna and pulled the trigger—but nothing happened, save for the sound of an empty click.

Luca froze for a moment, and then angrily flung the weapon to the ground. It clattered uselessly as Luca turned again, his movements increasingly frenetic. He grabbed another gun from one of the men standing nearby, and aimed that one at Tsuna as well.

“I wouldn’t bother, Boss.”

Luca’s eyes widened and he turned again, just as a group of DiSanto soldiers parted, and Anthony Franco emerged from their ranks.

“They’ve all been switched out,” he said with a nod toward the gun Luca was holding. “So unless you want to see what two of those bullets can do… probably time to throw in the towel.”

Luca stared at him. He had gone completely still, a look of open confusion on his face—for a moment. Then comprehension dawned in his eyes, and with it, a mixture of hurt, anger, and betrayal.

“You…” He shook his head slowly, mouth half-open with disbelief. “You did this?”

“I’m sorry, Boss.”

“You—” Luca cut off with a shaky breath. “You and them? The Vongola?”

“It was the only way,” Franco said.

“You betrayed me.” Luca’s voice was flat, strained.

“I’m doing it to _save_ you,” Franco said urgently. “And to keep the family safe! Look around, Luca!” He threw a hand out to indicate the soldiers standing obediently. “These men have nothing to do with this! Even if you _did_ succeed in killing the Vongola Boss, the rest of their family would wipe us out afterwards! You’re the Boss—it’s your duty to _protect_ the family!”

“And what about _your_ duty?!” Luca retorted. “You’ve always said I could trust you. Isn’t that right?” There was a break in his voice, but it was overpowered by the rage that ebbed forth even more strongly. “That I could _count_ on you? What a joke!”

“All he’s doing is trying to save you from yourself,” Tsuna cut in.

“ _You_.” Luca turned to face Tsuna, enraged. “This is your fault.”

“Luca, _stop_ ,” Anthony cut in. “He’s just a kid. He had nothing to do with this until you dragged him into it. Hell, this isn’t even between you and your brother; it’s you and your _father_ —”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Luca’s shout was explosive, incensed. He looked livid.

And all of a sudden Gokudera felt the subtle but unmistakable release of tension in his muscles. He nearly stumbled, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. The invisible force holding him in place had vanished; Luca’s control had been released.

Immediately he turned toward Tsuna. “Boss!”

Tsuna nodded. He took a step toward Luca—

—and all of a sudden, a dozen DiSanto soldiers moved to block his way.

Gokudera blinked and turned toward Anthony Franco. Had they been betrayed? But Franco wore a look of confusion that matched his own.  
“What are you guys—” he started to say, and then his expression tightened. He looked back toward Luca.

Luca was breathing heavily, both fists clenched. He was staring intently at the men in between him and Tsuna. Those men, Gokudera observed with growing unease, all had confused and alarmed expressions on their faces.

And with a flash of dismay, Gokudera realized two things. One, Luca somehow still retained control over the Command. And two… that meant that they were surrounded by scores of potential enemies.

Franco seemed to come to this conclusion at the same time he did. He quickly turned to face his remaining men. “Listen up!” he said in a commanding voice that nonetheless betrayed his own apprehension. “Change of plans! If you can move, get out of here _right now_ while you still can—”

But even as he spoke, Luca was already turning in their direction.

And with a strange and disconcerting synchronism that sent a chill prickling through Gokudera, about half of the men surrounding Franco suddenly crumpled to the ground, while the other half stood unnaturally straight and stiff.

“ _Shit_ —” Franco crouched down to check the vitals of the collapsed man nearest to him. Meanwhile, the men who were still standing suddenly shifted position.

A pang of alarm ran through Gokudera as he realized they were facing him. He took a step back, preparing to defend himself as they started to charge.

Then a whirlwind of orange flame tore into his view, and Tsuna fell in between him and the attackers, laying them out with quick, decisive blows. One of the men came at Tsuna still holding his assault rifle, but wielding it above his head like a bludgeoning weapon. Tsuna coolly held his ground until the last second. Then, in a lightning-fast blur of motion, he sliced clean through the weapon with one swipe of a flame-enhanced hand.

Franco, meanwhile, had gotten back to his feet, but another group of controlled soldiers was gathering to surround him. Gokudera could see him reaching toward his holster, but there was a conflicted look on his face. He didn’t want to risk seriously injuring his men, Gokudera realized.

He reached for his Vongola Gear.

Just as the first wave was beginning to charge toward Franco, a circle of black bone sheathed in red and blue flames swooped in to cut them off. Franco blinked, looking startled. Then he glanced back toward Gokudera. Gokudera nodded at him, and Franco nodded back.

Then his eyes widened.

It was instinct that made Gokudera turn back around, even before Franco could shout a warning. That same instinct made him reel in the rest of the Sistema C.A.I.’s shields, even before he fully understood why. His eyes sought out and found his brother, only to feel a shiver of foreboding when he saw that Luca was staring directly at him. The murderous look on his face was all he needed to understand why he’d suddenly had the feeling of impending danger.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he had lost track of Tsuna.

And then he caught a flash of orange in the corner of his eye—but too late.

He brought the shields up, but against the white-hot intensity of Tsuna’s Ultimate Dying Will flame, they were like paper. Tsuna sliced through the shield on Gokudera’s left side as easily as he had cut apart the DiSanto soldier’s assault rifle only moments earlier.

Then he lunged forward.

The next few moments for Gokudera were jumbled and confused.

He felt a searing pain in his lower abdomen. Then he was buckling forward, and gasping. It felt like he had just been punched in the gut—or hit with a sledgehammer—but it _burned_. The pain was excruciating, and for a split second everything seemed to fade.

Then his eyes opened again and the pain had numbed a bit. He was kneeling, and he wasn’t sure when that had happened. He felt dizzy and his head felt like it was wrapped in thick cotton. He was looking down at… something… but he wasn’t sure what was going on.

After a few more seconds of confusion, he realized that he was staring at his own shirt. His midsection was covered in blood. He had the sudden terrifying recollection of something cutting _into_ it. Into _him_.

All of a sudden his insides constricted and he coughed up something wet and warm. Red droplets materialized on his legs, and he stared.

He almost didn’t hear Tsuna’s voice brokenly crying out his name. But the part of him that was always attuned and attentive to Tsuna was still aware, and he looked up. Tsuna was standing in front of him—he was so close—why hadn’t he noticed?—and was still in the Ultimate Dying Will mode. But the flame looked to be in danger of flickering out completely, and Tsuna’s face was a portrait of pure horror.

His right arm was covered in red, Gokudera noticed suddenly, and that sent a tremor of panic rolling through him as well. Was he hurt…?

Dimly, he knew that wasn’t quite right. There was something he was missing. But Tsuna’s eyes were filled with tears now, and he had been so sure and filled with resolve only moments ago, and it made Gokudera afraid, because—because something had happened—something must have happened to him—or—

—or else—

He looked back down again, and brought his own right hand to his abdomen slowly.

And as he did so, the full awareness of what had just happened finally clicked into place.  
  
  


\---

 

Yamamoto waited.

Bella brought her sword around to her left hip—the position where a sheath would normally hang, except that Bella carried her own sheath on her back. Once again holding the hilt in reverse grip, she “drew” it forward slightly with her right hand, while her left hand moved to support the blade.

“ _Elemento Sereno: Alba Assalto_.”

Yamamoto readied himself.

She sprung at him and attacked with an underhand swing, almost like a sword-assisted uppercut. Yamamoto fell back and blocked with his right-hand sword, keeping the left ready.

Then Bella’s flames changed, almost imperceptibly, but he could see the shift of intent. She twisted her wrist to the left, so that the blade angled out toward her right, lining up with Yamamoto’s throat.

If he hadn’t seen the warning in her flames, he wouldn’t have been fast enough to dodge.

As it was, he only just managed, leaning back _Matrix_ -style just in time to avoid the second lunge, intended to take off his head.

He’d thought the near miss that had resulted in his scar the previous day had been close. This was closer. Even with his new senses on high alert, the difference in timing was only milliseconds. She hadn’t been holding back.

He grinned as she came about. “Wow… that was pretty dangerous.”

She was panting from the exertion now just like he was. He couldn’t imagine the strain that that kind of speed had to put on your body. He wondered if the movement had been assisted by the Activation trait of her Sun flames. “You wanted to see what I could do,” she said.

“I guess I should be careful what I wish for,” he laughed.

“You learned from our last battle to be cautious.” She whipped her blade around and shifted to a defensive stance. “I respect that. If you want, we can continue to fight like this, and most likely, we’ll both come to a draw.” A pause. “Would that satisfy you?”

“Heh,” he said, smiling faintly. He straightened, letting both arms relax by his sides, blades angled toward the ground. “…You said before I wouldn’t be fighting you if I didn’t think I could win.”

“At least, I hope that’s the case,” she said.

He laughed a little sheepishly. “I didn’t want to admit it after that, but to be honest… I wasn’t completely sure if I’d be able to pull it off.”

He rotated his left blade, and brought both it and the right blade to his left hip.

“So I guess the real reason I came here is… that I won’t know until I try.”

He saw a quick flicker of satisfaction in Bella’s Sun flames, and grinned.

Then, with both swords still chambered on his left side, he crouched into a half-kneeling position.

“Shigure Souen Ryu…”

He drew the blades and began rotating them in a figure eight pattern, sending waves of blue Rain flames cascading all around him. The Tranquility effect would hopefully slow down Bella’s response time—but more importantly, the vast amount of flames would help conceal his own wave energy patterns.

Halting the blades’ rotation so that they were angled back one over each shoulder in a roof-style guard, he charged. He knew Bella would still most likely be able to read his intent no matter what he did—as long as he himself knew what that intent was.

But he had two blades.

In his mind, as he ran, he pictured a coin being held up and flipped. It spun through the air in his mental space as he closed in.

_Heads, the left blade._

_Tails…_

He could see Bella’s hesitation as he closed in. He waited until the last possible second. The imaginary coin clattered to the ground, and in his mind’s eye, he saw what it had landed on.

He grinned.

“Thirteenth Form…”

And, just as he reached Bella, he brought his right hand sword down. She moved to guard—but critically, fatally slower than before.  
And as she blocked overhead, he switched to her own trademark reverse style grip, and made two horizontal cuts, coming in underneath her guard with two quick flicks of his wrist.

“ _Night Rain_.”  
  
  


\---

 

Anthony watched in muted horror as Hayato pitched forward, then slumped to his knees.

Shit. _Shit_. They were rapidly approaching a worst-case scenario, when just minutes ago he had thought they were close to victory.

‘ _Help us take down Luca, and we’ll leave the rest of the family alone_.’ That had been the Arcobaleno’s deal. Anthony had amended it to include one more stipulation—the Vongola would let Luca live. It had made him sick—and still did—to be turning on him like this. But it was the only way to ensure that he made it out alive, along with everyone else.

But if Hayato died, that would be the end. The Vongola would not forgive that. He didn’t think even the young Tenth Boss would be willing to look past it. It would mean blood.

The kid was just standing there in shock. Or maybe it was because Luca still had control of him; Anthony couldn’t tell. His right hand was covered in blood up to the wrist from where…

…Shit.

And Hayato was coughing up blood now, and the young Boss was calling his name again, his voice breaking.

If Hayato did die here, literally murdered via Tsunayoshi’s own hand…

Anthony swallowed, thinking rapidly. There was no way they would possibly be safe after that. Everyone, the whole family, would be caught up in the retaliation.

He looked over at Luca. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten about Anthony, as well as the men he’d taken possession of. All of his attention was focused on Hayato, who he stared at now with a deep, delirious anger.

“I should have done this from the start. I should have never let you live.” His voice was rough and unsteady. “It was always you. You had everything. Father’s love… the family name…”

He made a sound akin to a laugh, but there was a harshness to it, a brittle thinness that threatened to crack. “And even when I took that away, you still…”

He broke off again, and Anthony felt a mounting desperation. Luca was sounding more and more unbalanced by the minute. More and more like someone already beyond the reach of any kind of redemption. There was something broken there, something that Anthony was only now realizing went far deeper than he had ever suspected.

Or maybe it had just been his own wishful thinking that had ever made him believe there was the potential for good in Luca as well. He’d always had a darkness to him, yes, even back when they’d first met. But that same darkness was what had given Anthony hope. In a world where the people on top were by and large sheltered and uncaring, content with a status quo that left them secure and comfortable even as others suffered, Luca knew what it was like to be on the bottom rung.

He’d experienced pain, yes. And it had undeniably twisted his worldview. But pain also taught empathy. And that was exactly what was missing in the corrupt world of Cosa Nostra, and in the DiSanto family in particular, which had been isolated by its vast wealth for far too long. That was what Anthony had hoped Luca would be able to restore. It was why he’d backed him in the coup, and it was why he didn’t regret killing off the kid’s old man, even now.

But what he did regret was not foreseeing just what that act would actually do to Luca. How it would leave him suddenly adrift, with the thing he thought he’d wanted for so long suddenly accomplished, but with nothing to show for it. How his need to fill some intangible place inside of him would leave him picking at old wounds and falling back into old ways, into his old self-destructive tendencies. And how that destructive behavior would escalate until it finally led them here.

He regretted the hell out of that. But it was too late to do anything about it now. Too many damn things had gone wrong, and it was too late to do anything about nearly any of them.

If he’d done a better job as Consigliere… or if he’d done a better job keeping Luca on track well before any of this started in the first place…

He bit back another curse. “Luca, don’t do this,” he said, knowing deep down that it wouldn’t make a difference, that he was beyond reason, but still needing to try all the same. Needing to offer that hand when he was so close to the ledge.

Luca looked over at him. His eyes burned with resentment, but beyond that, there was something else. Something young and lost and inconsolable.

“He even took you,” he said.

Anthony didn’t have any defenses against that. He knew he’d earned it. But it hurt to see him coming apart like this.

He needed to say _something_. Wanted to console him; needed to convince him. But the seconds were eating away, and he had nothing.

Hayato suddenly coughed again, violently, and Anthony’s stomach twisted. There was no time. He had no idea how the kid was still conscious with a wound like that, let alone alive. But he was still alive, and that was all that mattered. Right now, Anthony needed to make sure he stayed that way. No matter what.

“Luca, if you kill him, they’ll kill you,” he said desperately.

But Luca’s response, when it came, confirmed all his worst fears.

“Good.”

And suddenly Tsunayoshi raised his right arm again, and the orange Sky flames brightened, charging up for another attack.

And then there was no more time to think.

Tsunayoshi fired, but Anthony was already moving. He was fast, but this was a burst of energy shot from point-blank range. It took everything he had, and there was no room for error.

His intent had been to knock Hayato out of the way of the blast.

He didn’t quite succeed.  
  
  


\---

 

“You hit me with the blunt edge of your sword,” Bella said flatly.

She was lying on the ground. Winded, but mostly unhurt. At least, Yamamoto was pretty sure.

“Ah… sorry,” he laughed. “It’s not because I was underestimating you, though,” he added, though he had a suspicion that she already understood.

She made a noise that was thoughtful, if slightly chiding. “…I guess you are still a boy.”

He laughed again. “I’m not the only one who held back, though!” he said, deactivating his Vongola Gear. “You could have killed me last time if you wanted to, you know.”

Bella made a vague _tsk_ -ing noise, not acknowledging this, but not really denying it either.

“Heh,” he said. “I’m grateful, though. You really helped to show me something brand new.” And it had helped him to become a little stronger, after all.

“…Make sure you don’t waste it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He smiled. “You said people like that are exhausting, right?”

She was quiet for a moment.

“My father was the one who taught me to fight,” she said at last. “But he was killed when I was still young.”

He blinked.

“…Ah,” he said quietly. He thought about that for a moment. It explained quite a lot.

_(They don’t consider what a waste it is, or think about those they may be leaving behind.)_

Suddenly he felt like he understood Bella a lot better.

“My old man taught me too,” he said finally.

She didn’t say anything, but he could see that the yellow flames of her _hadou_ had tempered and were burning with a kind of wistful calm.

And a moment later, it occurred to him that Bella’s flame wasn’t the only yellow glow in the area. With a thrill of excitement, he realized that he could—just barely—make out several other small glowing objects in his vision.

He held up a hand to cover his eyes for a second, afraid he was just imagining it. But no. It was almost imperceptible, but there was no question. His vision was slowly but surely recovering after all.

Relieved laughter bubbled up within him. He’d been trying not to think about it, and thought he had been succeeding, so it startled him to realize just how much lighter he felt all of a sudden.

With a wide grin, he stepped forward and reached to help Bella up, a gesture that was met with some confusion.

“…What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” he replied. “We’re done, aren’t we?”

She was silent for a moment before finally accepting the hand and allowing him to pull her up.

“You’re a strange boy, Yamamoto Ta—”

Suddenly she cut off, inhaling sharply. For a split second Yamamoto was worried that maybe she’d been more hurt than he had realized, but then her head snapped to the side as though staring off towards something far away, as her _hadou_ went ice cold.

“No…” she said, sounding as though she was in shock. Then she was trying to stand again, but much too fast, stumbling and almost falling once more.

“H-hey!” he said, now very concerned but not sure what was going on. “Take it easy—”

“Let go—I have to—”

Then suddenly she gasped again, this time a much more pained and anguished sound. Before he could understand what was happening, she was sliding back down to her knees. If not for the grip he maintained on her arm, he thought she would have collapsed. Her attention still seemed fixed far off in the distance.

A cold feeling suddenly made its way into the pit of Yamamoto’s own stomach.

“What is it?” he said.

She didn’t respond.  
  
  


\---

 

For one long, terrifying moment, Tsuna couldn’t see anything.

But what scared him even more was that he didn’t know if he _wanted_ to see.

Everything had happened so fast. He’d been fighting a group of DiSanto soldiers when suddenly his movements had ceased to be his own. It was like there was some instinct directing him that he was powerless to resist. Then he’d charged straight toward Gokudera, who had tried to defend himself with his shields, to no avail.

And then…

Tsuna felt sick to his stomach.

It had never before occurred to him just how terrible a power he held. Because it was _his_ , and he was the one in control of it. It wasn’t a power to be used lightly, and he had never once done so. He’d only ever used that strength to protect his friends. To help keep them safe.

Words couldn’t describe the visceral horror of suddenly having that power used against them, and being unable to do anything to stop it. It was a violation of the worst kind, an unwilling reversal of everything he’d ever sought out to do with his Dying Will.

And he’d been helpless to do anything but watch as Gokudera had crumpled, folding in on himself, confused and reeling in pain and shock.

And still that had not been enough for Luca. The next thing Tsuna knew, he was powering up the X-Burner flame. And still he was helpless, and Gokudera was kneeling in front of him, already so badly hurt, and Tsuna saw his own powerlessness reflected in his eyes.

And then he’d fired, and screamed, because for that one terrible instant, he’d thought it was all over.

But just before the attack—not fully powered, but still more than enough to be fatal—had hit Gokudera, he’d seen a strange flash of movement. And then the light from the blast had temporarily blocked out everything else from his vision.

In that moment, as the light slowly faded, all he could think was, _please don’t let him be dead, he can’t be dead_. It seemed to drag out forever.

And then, finally, the light receded.

And Tsuna’s eyes widened.

Anthony Franco stood between him and Gokudera. His entire front side was a mass of burns, blackened and bloodied. He looked like he had taken the full brunt of the blast.

For a moment, he wavered on his feet. He blinked a few times, looking strangely calm.

Then he collapsed.

Tsuna heard a strangled cry from just outside his field of vision.

And then, without warning, the invisible grip holding him in place vanished as if it had never been.

For a moment his mind was blank. Then he saw the DiSanto men around him moving as well, with various looks of surprise and bewilderment. A few of them dropped their weapons.

Then Tsuna heard a wet, struggling cough, and all other thoughts flew from his mind. In an instant, he was at Gokudera’s side, the Dying Will flame dissolving away as he moved. “Gokudera-kun!”

He felt colder than he should have been, and his breathing was labored. But he was alive. Relief like Tsuna had never felt before flooded through him like a river bursting through a dam.

He immediately turned his attention to Gokudera’s injury. But that, too, was somehow not as bad as he had feared. By some miracle, he hadn’t gone all the way through, and the wound seemed to have cauterized somehow. Most likely from the flames, he realized with a shuddering feeling. But it seemed to have slowed the bleeding, and that could very well have saved Gokudera’s life.

He seemed to be hovering on the edge of consciousness, and his attention was not focused on Tsuna, but rather behind him. Suddenly, Tsuna remembered who had done this in the first place, and he twisted around, still holding Gokudera’s shoulders protectively.

But Luca was not moving to attack again. He was not, in fact, paying them any heed whatsoever. He stood frozen in place. And his expression…

Tsuna knew that look. Knew it because it was the same one he himself had been wearing only moments earlier.

“Boss…”

That was Anthony Franco. Luca took a few steps toward him, arms slack at his sides.

And then all at once he fell to his knees, eyes wide as he moved to Anthony’s side, hands hovering over his wounds in a frantic uncertainty. He glanced up, casting about desperately, but then faltering when he seemed to remember that his men were no longer obeying his commands.

Then a tiny figure stepped out from amongst the crowd. With a grave authority, Reborn looked up and addressed the man standing closest to him. “Call a healing squad. Now.”

The man hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then took off running.

“Hey… Luca…”

Tsuna watched as Luca looked back down at Anthony, his eyes still wide. All his prior wrath seemed to have sapped out from him all at once. He looked tired and afraid.

“You never lost me,” Anthony said quietly.

Luca’s lips opened slightly and then pressed together in a grimace, and Tsuna saw to his shock that he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” Anthony said. “Hey…”

His right hand shook slightly as he raised it. “All that pain you’ve got bottled up…” He reached out to touch Luca’s chest, resting his hand on its center. “Learn from it. Let it make you better. Don’t… don’t let it eat you up.”

Luca’s face contorted with sudden emotion, and for an instant, Tsuna was struck by just how much he looked like Gokudera.

Then Anthony’s hand suddenly went slack, and his head lolled back in Luca’s arms, just as the summoned medical team came rushing over.

Two of the medics ran up to Tsuna and Gokudera as well, and to Tsuna’s relief, he saw the familiar yellow glimmer of Sun flames as one of them immediately went to work on Gokudera’s injury. Tsuna allowed them to do so, but stayed close, holding onto his hand as they laid him back carefully on the ground.

His gaze was unfocused, but his eyes found Tsuna’s and he managed to smile faintly. Tsuna tried to smile back, but found all of a sudden that tears were forming unbidden in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Gokudera replied, his voice not much stronger than a whisper, but still reassuring. “I’m all right.”

Words were failing him; he wanted to keep apologizing, and he also wanted to tell him how glad he was that he was okay. “Gokudera-kun…”

“…‘Hayato.’”

Tsuna’s heart jumped a beat in surprise. He blinked back at Gokudera, who was looking up at him with a gentle, trusting fondness.

And with a smile of his own, Tsuna wiped roughly at the tears still welled up.

“Hayato,” he acceded.

He looked back over at Luca and Anthony. The medics had surrounded the latter, blocking him from Tsuna’s view.

Luca hadn’t moved from his spot, and made no move to do so even when Reborn took a step toward him with a gun aimed at his head.

“Luca DiSanto.” His tone was sober. “This fight is over. What will you do now?”

Luca’s response, when it came, was in a subdued monotone. His eyes never moved from where Anthony lay, being attended to by the medics.

“I surrender,” he said.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Oh man this time I have so many. Let’s see.
> 
>   1. _Finally it’s finished_. Oh my god. The final version of this chapter ended up being twice as long as the first draft, holy shit.
>   2. It also ended up at least twice as gay.
>   3. _Elemento Sereno: Alba Assalto_ translates to “Sun Element: Dawn Assault.”
>   4. And Yamamoto’s new Shigure Souen Ryu kata would be 夜雨 ( _Yau_ ) in Japanese. Fun fact: the Japanese language has like 50 different words for rain. It was fun picking one out; I thought “Night” had a fitting ring to it, given that he developed it while blind.
>   5. So just to clarify re: Luca’s powers—Gokudera was correct in hypothesizing that strong emotions caused him to lose control. They just didn’t correctly identify which kind of emotions. Anger actually makes them stronger, whereas sadness, hurt, and grief fuck them up. Maybe in a future draft I’ll try to make this more clear but I got tired.
>   6. “Did Anthony just… die?” “You know, it was really unclear.”
> 

> 
> Next chapter will be the epilogue! Or, depending on how long it is, I might just go ahead and call it an actual chapter, and then make the very last part of it into an epilogue. I’ll be 100% honest—I have all of the scenes planned (dialogue and all), but I haven’t actually written any of it yet because it was my way of forcing myself to complete this thing. There is one scene in particular that, along with the Tsuna/Gokudera convo in chapter 8 (and also wanting to make Gokudera’s pop a properly shady character once again, I admit it), was my motivation for writing this entire story to begin with. So I have no idea how long that will take to write, but I can tell you I’m super hyped to write it, so we’ll see. Thanks for bearing with me, regardless.


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